The Shield Undivided
by Nyx6
Summary: Sequel to 'The Shield Reunited.' The guys are now working together again in their continued fight to keep Suplex City free of crime. But a simple job goes dramatically awry when Dean ends up with an unwanted admirer, leading his teammates into a race against time to get him out of a very deadly situation. Cameos abound here. Strong bromance as always. Believe in the Shield.
1. Heroes Are Hard To Find

**So, welcome one and all. Here we are again, with part two of this crazy little world I have created. For all of those wondering if this is just going to be more Dean whumping then...yes...uh, yes it is. What can I say? I like angsty Seth and Roman. So sue me. Actually, no please don't. Anyway a bunch more cameos in this one, so if you're all good and ready let's dive right in.**

 **NB: Following on from using Kinks song titles in the last one, in this story they are all songs by the mighty Fleetwood Mac, including this one...**

* * *

 **Heroes Are Hard To Find**

They had been sitting in the surveillance van for almost six years. Well alright, three hours which was basically the same thing.

Dean was bored – no, he was _worse_ than bored.

He was _child-in-the-backseat-on-a-long-car-journey_ bored which meant fidgeting, sighing, drumming his fingers and generally being a pain in the ass. Really, it was only a matter of time before he got a rise from someone and predictably – as he had hoped – Seth was the one who bit,

"Jesus Dean, sit still will you? You're driving me crazy. Stop kicking the god damn back of my seat."

To make the point that he was unhappy – like his teammates didn't already know – Dean said nothing but kicked again harder, so that Seth bounced forwards and dropped his phone,

" _Dean_ – ,"

"M' bored," he put in, sullenly like a child as Seth groped around in the footwell in the half-light, cursing him and trying to track down his cell,

"We're _all_ bored damn it. Think I'm having fun here?"

"This assignment sucks."

It really did.

The case was what they referred to as a _Stephanie Special_ , meaning it wasn't necessarily in their ballpark but that she couldn't find anyone else to take it on.

It centred around an unlikely individual who went by the name of Gentleman Jack. Although really, who the hell had that sort of nickname when they worked in the drugs trade? Because that was what he did. His bad cuts of drugs had left two people dead and a pretty seventeen year old high-schooler in a coma. It was bad press for the city which meant bad press for Vince and on that basis alone, Stephanie wanted the guy shut down. Frankly, Dean figured they could have brought him in for a _host_ of things, from having a moustache that _curled at the ends_ to dressing like he'd stepped out of a fucking time machine. Who wore a pocket square and a waistcoat out in public? How had he not been beaten to a pulp?

He lived on the lower West Side of the city in a penthouse apartment in a not-so-bad spot. There were certainly enough blue-collar types and families to make it seem like a respectable place. In fact it seemed the only downside of living there were the unsavoury types that turned up looking for Jack.

"There goes another one," Roman rumbled flatly and they all turned their attentions to look at the guy. Dean slid forwards from his place on the backseat to hang across the console, forearms leant on the front headrests.

The newcomer was bulky but baby-faced looking, with long limp hair that hung past his shoulders and smattering of chin whiskers that were essentially fluff. It sort of looked like he'd missed it while shaving – like he'd left a pan on, rushed out of the bathroom and then for some reason forgotten to go back. More notably however, it was a face Dean recognized and he let out a sigh and rolled his blue eyes,

" _Fuck_."

"What?" Seth responded, lifting up his camera and taking rapid-fire pictures to add to their growing stock. It was fast becoming a compendium of scumbags, so Stephanie would be happy even if her _go to_ team were not.

"You know this guy?" Roman asked, turning to look at him and taking in his teammate's weary looking nod,

"Yeah, Bo Dallas, busted him a _bunch_ of times. Low level guy. Not that bad, y'know?"

"Well for someone _not that bad_ , he sure keeps crappy company," Seth snorted, putting the camera down as Bo disappeared inside. Dean shrugged his shoulders and sat back in his seat again, absently worrying at a hangnail on his thumb,

"He's pretty fuckin' harmless, just can't keep it together. Hadn't seen him for a couple 'a months so kinda thought he might'a managed to get out for good this time."

Dean rubbed a hand across his eyes.

Clearly not.

"Still," Roman shrugged, "Could be a good thing."

Dean blinked back at him,

"Good thing _how_?"

"Well we needed a way in, right? Think this Bo dude might help us? You said you knew him – ,"

"I don't know, I _guess_ he might. 'M gonna need like an _incentive_ or somethin' though. Make it seem more attractive to the guy."

Pushing the camera up onto the dashboard and lazily hooking his feet up alongside, Seth blew out a breath and adjusted his baseball cap, suddenly sounding as bored as Dean felt,

"Better talk to Stephanie, see if you can get her to loosen up the purse strings."

Dean shook his head.

"Nah, leave it to me,"

A plan of action was already fast forming and it wasn't money-based, well, not in a _pay-off_ sense. Bo Dallas was essentially an overgrown child and from experience, Dean knew how to make the man tick,

"You sure?"

He nodded,

"I know the right angle."

If Roman and Seth were curious however as to what that angle _was_ then they chose not to ask and instead – in lieu of any other shady visitors – they went back to sitting around being bored.

 _Great._

They made it perhaps another seven minutes before Dean decided he'd had enough. He couldn't take one more moment of silence and so he purposefully sat forward and roughly cleared his throat,

"Savin' Private Ryan."

"What?"

The sound of surprise was almost reward enough and as his teammates exchanged equally baffled looking glances, Dean grinned proudly and repeated himself,

"Savin' Private Ryan, your turn."

" _My turn_?" Seth barked, "I don't even know what's happening – ,"

"Come on. You've never played this game before? I say a movie and _you_ say one that's connected, like, by the actor or the director – that sorta shit."

In response Seth simply blinked through the windshield, like he was struggling to work out what his teammate was getting at. Dean knew why – the younger man was in _work mode_ and when Seth was on the job, his lighter side died – but he wasn't about to give up easily, which was why his smile widened when Roman replied,

"Apollo Thirteen."

Seth let out a groan,

"You guys, we're supposed to be watching the building – ,"

Dean kicked his seat again,

"So? We can do both."

" _Fine_ ," Seth groaned, "What the hell do I know? I mean, it's not like we're being _paid_ or anything here – ,"

"Just pick a fuckin' movie Seth,"

"Aliens, _there_. Are you assholes happy now?"

Dean grinned back at him,

"Cherry Falls and yes."

Roman snorted loudly and twisted round in the driver's seat, the big brows narrowed close together in a frown,

"Cherry Falls? Dude, what the hell is _that_?"

"Slasher film," Dean shrugged, "Like, _genuinely horrible_. It's so bad it's almost kinda good, y'know? This girl – who's actually a guy in a hairpiece – goes around killin' virgins from the local High School. There's orgies and everythin', you gotta see it man,"

Roman pulled a face,

"Think I'll skip it, thanks."

"This mean you forfeit the game then Big Man?"

"Only because you cheated,"

" _What_?" Dean's disbelief was so shrill – by his standards – that he actually disturbed a nearby cat, which had been happily washing its paws on the stoop beside them but stood up and bolted at the single-worded shout,

" _Dean_ ," Seth hissed, like he was scolding a child, although as usual it had precious little effect,

"How did I cheat?"

Roman spread his hands out,

"By choosing a film you knew neither of us have seen."

"That's the game Roman, I'm tryin'a win here. Fact, that's why it's called _a game_."

Despite the needling and irritated nature, there was something sort of _comforting_ about the teasing gone awry. The three of them were distinct personalities and no way in hell did they always get along. The terse sounding banter was their substitute for arguments. A way to clear the air to stop the rub from getting worse. It meant the mood between them was sometimes kinda _fractious_ but it _also_ meant that when they needed to, they could function as one.

 _Family._

Dean kept repeating.

 _Family._

It felt kind of strange to have one of those again.

"Alright you two," Seth groaned, "Knock it off. We're all tired and hungry and pissed off here, right? No point in making this thing any worse."

For a second the surveillance van was shrouded in silence, which took Dean straight back to fidgeting again. His thumb and his forefingers flicked out a rhythm, rubbing up and down like a grasshopper in heat. That soon developed into tapping against his kneecaps and soon his boots were thumping out a beat.

It was telling that neither Seth or Roman reacted. Either they had silently decided they weren't biting or they had reacclimated themselves to his ticks. Because that was the thing, he wasn't _trying_ to annoy them, he just wasn't good at sitting still for too long.

Glancing down at his watch, Dean groaned.

Only thirty fucking _seconds_ since he'd last looked at the thing?

Seth's mention of food had got his stomach growling and so letting out a sigh, he turned and slid wide the door. The jarring grating of metal against metal cut through the silence a little like a bomb and both men up front turned quickly back towards him, startled and alarmed in one blended stroke,

"Whoa," Seth barked, "Where'd you think _you're_ going?"

"You're hungry, right?" Dean shrugged back at him, grabbing his leather jacket up off the backseat, "I'm gonna get some supplies. Roman, you comin' or what?"

Stepping out of the cramped surveillance van was like inflating a beach ball that had been flattened in a case. He could positively _feel_ himself unfurling and his cramped muscles screamed in relief one by one.

 _Yes._

Back inside, he could hear Roman mumbling in his low tones, checking that Seth would be fine on his own. Realistically they _all_ wanted to be the one to take a breather, but since Seth was their camera and technology expert it was probably for the best that he stayed put as their eyes.

"Bring you back somethin' good man," Dean drawled lazily, coming up alongside. The passenger window was cranked fully open and so he rested his arm against it and peered in with a smile, "One of those big greasy burgers you love so much,"

Seth rolled his eyes,

"Fuck you Dean, Roman – ,"

"I know, I know," the Big Man answered shortly, clambering from the van with an unhappy groan, "We'll get you your god damn salad, don't panic."

"With a shit ton of mayonnaise."

Seth glared,

"You dare Dean – ,"

Stepping away from the side of the surveillance van meant that Seth couldn't shout after him and knowing it, Dean held his hands up and smirked a little, teasing the probability of bringing back fatty food. Seth had always been anal about calories and even after having eaten _prison_ _food_ , that seemingly hadn't changed. It had sort of been a grounding experience to offer Seth a donut and watch him recoil. It was one of the things which had made life feel good again.

Made him feel good about being with _them_.

"Come on," Roman chuckled, catching him by the jacket cuff and spinning him up the sidewalk, "Stop getting him all riled up."

Despite the fact they were in _sort of_ a nice area, their options for fast food dinners weren't all that good. There was an unappealing looking Turkish Grill place – with rusted looking shutters and food strewn round the doorway in what was clearly just the start of several serious hygiene violations – or a fried chicken shop that was bigger and mildly cleaner but still made the dumpsters look like a reasonable third choice.

Since they were starving however – which it certainly felt like – Dean simply followed Roman inside, his keen eyes drinking in those standing in line waiting and appraising each one with a long-time policeman's eyes.

There were a cluster of teenagers, the troublemaker looking type like he had been when he was a kid. All piercings and baggy pants and giggling between themselves, thinking they were the shit because they had some inside joke. One of them – a raven haired girl – caught Dean glancing and jutted her chin out,

 _What are you looking at?_

Dean merely smirked back, effortlessly casual and seeing he wasn't frightened of her she quickly lost her nerve.

That's it sweetheart, don't be a hero.

There were a couple of other patrons around them, including a grey haired man who was reading the day's paper and a woman who looked like she lived entirely on fast food, the waistband of her stretch pants buckling so violently that Dean was worried about losing an eye.

"Seth ain't gonna be happy with _this_ ," Roman murmured from somewhere alongside him, staring at the menu, arms folded across his chest, "Guess we'll get him the grilled chicken salad and hope he doesn't throw a bitch fit at us."

"Nah," Dean snorted, "I vote we go all in and order him the twelve piece, watch him have a heart attack just _thinkin'_ about the carbs."

As Roman grinned and stepped up to the counter – teenagers falling away from him in waves – the door swung open a couple of feet behind them and a figure tripped up the step and clumsily staggered in,

" _Damn it_."

If the guy had styled it off he might have survived it, but his angry sounding shout made everybody look. Predictably the rebellious looking kids began to cackle and several even sent up a rowdy fucking _cheer_. Christ, it was like they were back in fucking High School, which – based on their age range – they probably were. Well, when they could be bothered to turn up to lessons. Dean didn't hold out much hope for their collective attendance scores.

The newcomer righted himself, red-faced and awkward then just sort of _stood_ there, like he didn't know what to do. He had the look of a lost child about him, although in reality he was probably the same age as Dean was, maybe even a year or two older for all his flushed pouting and petulantly drawn brows. He was bulky but muscular, like he went to the gym but was the sort of guy naturally predisposed to extra weight. He had short cropped hair and borderline-crazy beard growth, that encircled his jawline and bled up around his lips. Without it, he would probably have looked like a teenager but with it he looked older, if not slightly unkempt.

Not that Dean had problems with unkempt.

It described his own style down to a tee.

"Have a nice trip?"

It was one of the teenagers, bellowing across the shop floor with a sneer. Her friends responded by screaming with laughter, like it was easily the most original thing they'd heard all year. Maybe it was, which was a tragedy really. If they were the generation that was taking over after them, then it was safe to say the world was fucking doomed.

"Babe?" Roman turned, stepping up to the counter as the man with the newspaper shuffled aside, "Know what you're having?"

"Hot wings, lots of 'em."

Roman grinned at him,

"Sure."

The thought of food – especially since it was imminent – made Dean's stomach start to churn and growl, his brain delivering images of batter and fries that soaked greasy stains clean through the paper towels.

As Roman placed the order – and to speed things along a bit – Dean moved down the counter to the condiment stand, collecting three straws, a bunch of napkins and some sauce packets before wickedly grabbing some mayonnaise for Seth.

He was still debating physically _spreading_ it on the salad when he heard one of the teenagers call out again,

"Hey man, what do you think you're starin' at?"

 _Uh oh._

Those were never words that preceded a good time and sure enough, when Dean spun back round again, the unhappy gang were back to scowling at _Awkward Guy_.

"I _said_ , what do you think you're starin' at, huh?"

The speaker was a kid of about eighteen and quite frankly, far too lanky to be as ballsy as he was. The boy was like a beanpole that had been dressed in a hoodie and allowed to dye his hair jet black. There was an ear gauge spike in his left lobe – rock on man – and a chain through his belt loops that he clearly thought was cool. Everything about him screamed _rich and disaffected_ but as he stepped towards the new guy, it screamed _volatile_ as well.

"What's the matter? Don't you talk? Why were you starin' man? _Answer me_."

"I – I wasn't – I _didn't_ – ,"

The newcomer was flustered, words stuttering out and then dying a death, his cheeks flushing so red he could've guideddamn _planes_ in and his gaze rising and falling as he tightly clenched his fists.

"Yes you were. What? You some sort of pervert?"

Dean rolled his eyes,

 _Christ Alive kid._

"N-no – ,"

"Yes you are, you're a fuckin' pervert."

 _Edward Scissorhands Lite_ was clearly warming to his theme and to further make his point – and to prove he was a tough guy – he threw his arms wide and began to swagger across the floor.

 _Shit._

Heaving a sigh and stepping into the growing tension, Dean intercepted him before he got that far, grabbing up a handful of prep boy hoodie and backing him up a step while wrestling free his badge. Sure, he wasn't technically a detective any longer – the Shield worked outside the jurisdiction of the law – but since he was still on the force he got to keep it and it certainly came in useful in times of all-out war.

"Hey man, what the fuck – ,"

The badge glistened brightly and as the kid clapped eyes on it, his pale face fell.

 _Yeah._

"We got a problem here?"

Dean's voice was cool as he shot across the question and he bit back a grin as the boy sort of _winced_. From up where he was still placing their order, Roman turned round and offered him a look, one part bafflement to two parts amusement and it made Dean's snarl turn into a smirk.

"No man," _Grumpy Teenager Number One_ mumbled back at him, "No fuckin' problem."

"Then get out of here and don't swear."

The last part tumbled out before he could stop it and he bit back a groan.

Really?

 _Don't swear_?

At some point in the intervening year since he'd turned thirty, he had somehow morphed into someone's elderly Gran. He couldn't hold his drink any longer, he'd started referring to those in their twenties as _kids_ and seemingly now he was opposed to public cussing. He just needed a cat and some knitting and he was set.

Behind him he heard Roman choke a laugh-come-cough out and rolled his eyes knowing he hadn't heard the last of _that_. Fortunately however, his grandparent stylings achieved the desired effect on the teens, who stood for a second looking shifty and embarrassed before one of the girls let out an angry huff,

"Come on, I don't want no dumb chicken anyway."

Dean blinked back.

Line of the _night_ right there.

Together the conglomeration of disaffected teenagers huffed and muttered and _death-glared_ towards the door, several of them purposefully shoulder bumping the awkward man and one of them surreptitiously flipping a finger at Dean. Still, they were leaving and that was the main thing so Dean was happy to take what they threw.

"Have a nice night guys," he beamed at them broadly, enjoying the added fury the wide smile drew, "Don't do anythin' I wouldn't do, okay? So no havin' sex in a patch of poison ivy, or gettin' a tattoo, or like, lickin' a frog. I'll see you in juvie in about twelve months. I look forward to pickin' this conversation back up."

To make his point, he swung the door behind them and let it bang shut the second they were gone. Up by the counter, Roman was still chuckling and shaking his head in a form of _brotherly fond_ but before he could join him and revel in the moment, Dean's path was blocked and his hand was firmly grabbed,

 _Huh?_

"Thanks man, thanks, I – I really owe you. That was the nicest thing anybody's ever done. I mean, the way you handled those guys – that was _awesome_. I owe you dude, I totally owe you one."

As _Awkward Guy_ continued to pump his hand readily – a little like he was trying to draw up water from a well during a dry spell out on some frontier desert – Dean tried to bite back a wince of alarm. The grip was so tight his fingers were throbbing and the handshake showed little sign of actually slowing down,

"Uh, sure, don't mention it man, anytime."

"You're my hero dude, I mean that – you're my _hero_. My name's Kevin by the way, Kevin Owens, that's me."

"Kevin," Dean repeated vaguely, finally managing to pull free his hand which slid from the newcomer's strong but clammy palm with a dull but very wet _suckering_ sound.

 _Gross._

Wiping it off on the thigh of his jeans, Dean looked up and then started a little as he realized for the first time how close Kevin was. The pair of them were practically eyeball to eyeball and wisps of the guy's beard hair tickled at his chin. It didn't help that he didn't seem to be blinking much either, which was always a deeply unsettling sign and although Dean in no way condoned the earlier actions, Kevin was just a guy who threw up _weirdo_ signs.

Coming from him – who was by no means a people person _or_ liked to stick to the accepted social norms – that was saying something and _then_ some.

Poor old Kevin was just a fucking odd guy.

"Didn't catch your name man."

"Didn't give it," Dean responded, taking a step back in the hopes of creating some breathing room, "You can just call me Detective, alright man? Don't need to thank me either – just doin' my job."

The look he got in return was baleful, almost like he'd kicked a fucking puppy and it made Dean feel bad, well, for about three seconds. Adulation just wasn't his style and nor was hero worship. All he was wanted was his bucket of hot wings.

Everything else could go take a running jump.

Fortunately however, either through knowing it or else by some miracle of impeccable timing Roman chose that exact moment to hail him, offering a barked _hey_ across the shop floor and gesturing to a tempting smelling array of packets being placed down in front of him on the countertop,

"You gonna give me a hand over here?"

Dean didn't need to be asked about it twice, turning and stepping away from Kevin without so much as another muttered word. Ignoring the boxes of chicken and the salad – who ordered salad from a god damn fast food joint – Dean swept up his precious hot wing bucket and juggled it with a soda, the fries and the straws.

" _Hey_ , food, come to daddy."

Collecting their receipt – to chalk up to expenses – Roman let out an amused sounding snort and attempted to pick up the rest of their grub. In the haze of fried goodness and sugar and condiments, Dean had forgotten about Kevin almost at once but as he turned away from the counter and off towards the door, he collided with him again,

" _Whoa_ – ,"

"So look man, I'd like to make it up to you somehow,"

Dean frowned back at him inarticulately,

"What?"

"You know, like – like take you for a beer or something, shoot the breeze a little – ,"

Dean continued staring.

What was wrong with the guy?

All he did was chase away a few sullen teenagers and now suddenly he was practically being asked out on a date. If he was honest then it was all just a little bit unsettling how fucking _keen_ this Kevin dude was. The man was all big eyes and constantly twitching fingers, with a sheen on his forehead that dripped down into his brow.

"Look man – ,"

"Seriously pal, I'm buying. That's the least I can do for a friend."

 _Friend_?

When had they bridged _that_ gap? He only had two friends in the world and that had been a fairly on-and-off thing. Fortunately however, these days it was _on_ again and as Dean felt Roman loom up somewhere behind his shoulders, he lamented again on what a good thing that was,

"What's going on?"

Kevin seemed to bristle,

"Me and my _buddy_ here are going out for drinks."

Dean shook his head.

This whole thing was crazy and it was definitely time to shut it right down.

"What? No, look, come on, I get that you're grateful and wanna thank me or whatever but seriously dude, that's it, alright? Come on Roman, let's get back to the van already, my stomach's eatin' itself over here."

"But – ,"

As he shifted towards the doorway, Kevin stepped with him and held out a hand as if to grab at Dean's sleeve. Roman stopped it happening by inserting himself between them and then flanking Dean bodyguard-style out of the place. He waited until they were back on the sidewalk and striding their way towards the truck before he spoke, the smell of chicken wafting up into his nostrils and tempering the weight of his semi-concerned frown,

"What the hell was _that_ about uce?"

Dean rummaged around in the depths of his bucket and pulled out a hot wing, hissing at the heat,

"No idea, was kinda fuckin' weird though, y'know?"

Roman's expression darkened exponentially, a feeling settling over him,

"Yeah, you're telling me."

* * *

 **Sooo? How are we feeling after the opener? Excited for what's to come (I really hope the answer's yes!) As ever, please let me know what you're all thinking and I will see you in three days for the next update.**


	2. What's The World Coming To

**Well, here we are again. Hope you're all ready for the next installment which will probably answer all lingering doubts!**

 **Debwood-1999, If any film is 'direct to DVD' chances are I'm going to enjoy it! With regards the plot, my muse writes what it wants to write and nothing else. I'm a slave to it. Got some one-shot ideas you might like coming up while we're on the subject though...(food for thought!)**

 **Mandy, Welcome back! Lots of Dean yes but hardly any Steph. Brewing a one-shot/possible short story idea though (in the same world) to bridge that gap so stay tuned!**

 **Guest, Glad I've hooked you in already and thank you, I love writing (what I imagine to be) their sparky dialogue. It's just good fun!**

 **SkittlezLvr79, I hope you enjoy how it unfolds. I am actu stupidly proud of this story. Each new story I write is my favourite...so this is currently my favourite. Hope it becomes one of yours too.**

 **Skovko, Yep, I was going to wait until later in the week but I had the first chapter all edited and just decided to go for it! LOVE trashy 90's horror movies. All the same and yet all slightly different (also, all terrible!)**

 **AngelOfDeathOfWrestling, Roman and Seth to the rescue is the best! Can't get enough of it (as you may or may not have guessed at this point!) Nothing like a good bromance to hit me in the feels!**

 **Ninjoy, Guess who's back...back again...ME! Amazing and awesome always good by me and as for Kevin, well, this chapter should help you make your mind up what the guy's all about.**

 **Irishfan62, Maybe...I mean, I did forewarn a whole bunch of cameos, but possibly not in the way you might expect!**

 **Over to Fleetwood Mac then...**

* * *

 **What's The World Coming To**

By the time they got back to their crappy surveillance van, Seth was almost apoplectic with hunger and acting as if he'd been on some sort of forced fast. Quite frankly how a _salad_ was going to sate his hunger was a question with no answer as far as Dean was concerned and yet the second the rabbit food was delivered to his teammate, the younger man tore into it like it was nourishment from the gods.

Dean waited approximately a minute to thirty seconds before whipping out and waving around the packet of mayonnaise, a grin on his face as he tore off a corner and leant out across the salad leaves,

"You want some 'a this?"

"Fuck you Dean," Seth snarled back at him, drawing the precious greenery in closer to his chest, "What the hell took you guys so damn long anyway? Thought I was gonna starve to death here."

Always a Drama Queen.

 _God_ how he'd missed that.

In response Roman let out a weary sounding snort, shrugging himself into place on the driver's side and peeling off his jacket as the chicken burnt through his lap,

"Dean got distracted playing neighbourhood cop."

"I'm sorry, he _what_?"

"I chased off some kids, real _silver spoon_ deals. Pissed because pops won't let 'em max out his card. Harmless really, somethin' an' nothin'."

Roman unwrapped his dinner with a frown,

"It wasn't to that guy."

"What guy?" Seth offered, looking between his teammates, a limp lettuce leaf hanging unappetizingly off his fork.

Dean shrugged,

"Just some guy."

"Yeah, a _weird_ guy," Roman growled back, "The kids were hassling him, giving him a hard time. When Dean got rid of them the dude was all over him, calling them buddies, wanting to take him out for drinks – ,"

"So you're saying you were late back because Dean was getting _hit_ on?"

Dean attempted to flick a spot of grease at him, aiming it straight into the mound of salad leaves. Unfortunately however it didn't travel far enough and landed on the kneecap of his _own_ jeans.

 _Damn_.

"Wasn't gettin' hit on asshole."

Roman drew a breath in,

"Actually, you kinda _were_."

In answer Dean let out a groan of irritation and gestured to the greasy bucket perched haphazardly across his lap,

"Come on man, I'm tryin'a eat here, cut it out with that crap will ya?"

Roman shrugged,

"Sorry uce, you know I'm right though, something about that dude was just _off_."

"Sure it was," Dean replied casually, juggling an especially hot chicken wing, "Guy's a loner. Probably lives in his mom's basement or his car – no friends – that kinda deal, y'know?"

"Sounds like you're speaking from experience there Ambrose,"

Okay, so he _hadn't_ missed Seth's blatant shit-eating smirk and to make that fact perfectly clear to his teammates, he leant over and jammed a fry into the middle of the salad pile, making it stand up on end like a flagpole and then sticking his tongue between his teeth as he smiled,

" _Damn it Dean_ – ,"

"What? I'm doin' you a favour, let your poor body taste a god damn carb for once."

"That's it, I hope that guy _was_ hittin' on you," Seth grumbled back as he extracted the fry, plucking it out distastefully with his fingertips like the thing was made of mould or arsenic or mace, "Serve you right for bein' an asshole,"

"Yeah, okay, like _you_ can talk."

In the middle of the dialogue – it wasn't an argument, just how their strange three man dynamic seemed to work – Roman shifted and cleared his throat a little, gesturing through the windshield with a small plastic fork,

"Uh, guys? When the two of you get done with all the bitching, Bo Dallas just came out and is disappearing down the street,"

"What?"

Instantly the sniping quickly died away again, food going forgotten as all three of them leant in. Roman was pointing to a spot beyond the tinted glass and – sure enough – there was Bo practically _skipping_ away,

"Idiot," Dean murmured, shunting aside his bucket and hanging in through the front two seats,

"We doing this now?" Roman fired back at him and Dean nodded briskly,

"Don't see why not."

Seth let out a sigh,

" _Ugh_ , screw this job. You know just for _once_ , I'd like to eat."

"It's _salad_ man," Dean patted him on the shoulder, "Not real food, doesn't fuckin' count."

Before Seth could fire back a missive however, Roman had stoked the van into life, slotting his seatbelt into place one handed – _such_ a dad, always with the health and safety thing – and flooring the battered old vehicle into a wakefulness that positively jerked them away from the curb,

" _Whoa_ – ,"

As Dean ended up in the backseat footwell – his chicken bucket toppling to join him as well – Roman offered him a smirk in the rear view and shrugged his shoulders casually,

"That's why you should always wear your belt."

Dean clambered up with an undecipherable mutter, ungracefully managing to extract his long limbs. His tones darkened slightly as Seth joined in the laughing at which point a single clear word trickled through,

"Assholes."

Roman grinned,

"You said it."

Up ahead of them, Bo was moving quickly and easily cutting a path through the few people still on the streets. At the end of the road he turned right into an alley and in response, Dean was out before Roman could stab the brakes, landing somewhat clumsily on the rain moistened concrete and pounding off after their evening's prey,

"Bo – ," he yelled, his gruff tones echoing as they bounced from side to side clean off the brick walls, "Hey Bo, wait up man,"

"Detective Ambrose?"

"Yeah," Dean puffed out shortly, pulling up in front of him, "How's it goin'?"

Perhaps as was to be expected, Bo was grinning back at him and looking genuinely thrilled he was there. Honestly, the kid was kind of like a puppy but one of those big clumsy ones who loved _everybody_ and constantly had his tongue lolled out to one side. He wasn't the sort of guy who could say _no_ to anyone, includingcriminal elements and the city's ne'er-do-wells.

It was how Dean knew that Bo could be an _in_ for them and it was also why he'd called him a pretty good guy. Pretty damn stupid, that was a given – the kid was a couple cents short of a buck – but pretty good too, or well-meaning anyway, which in their game was about as good as you could get.

"Detective Ambrose, it's so great to see you,"

He meant that, Dean knew, with everything he had.

"Uh huh,"

"But isn't your precinct way across town? What are you doing late at night out here?"

The fact he clearly didn't seem to get the irony made Dean raise a comical brow, his lips quirking up into a ghost of a smile, even as he attempted to stay cool,

"Could ask you the same question there _Dallas_. What're _you_ doin' way out here?"

"Oh dear, now – see – I don't want you to be mad at me,"

 _God_ it was like talking to someone's aged grandmother circa the turn of the nation's fucking _birth_ ,

"Now why in the world would I be angry with you Bo? Because I just saw you comin' out of the penthouse of a drug dealer? _Or_ because the last time I picked you up for pullin' shit like this, you promised me – _promised me_ – that you would go straight? I busted my ass keepin' you outta jail on that one. This _kinda_ makes me think I might'a wasted my time."

"I don't – I didn't – ,"

"Don't lie to me Bo, y'know how I get when I start sniffin' lies,"

Somewhere down the alleyway, footsteps crunched towards them and Dean didn't even have to glance across his shoulder to instantly know that the tread belonged to Seth. The arrival of a newcomer seemed to panic Bo however and in response he pulled the plastic carrier bag he'd been clinging to even tighter up to his chest.

Poor Bo, concealment never _had_ been his style.

After all, why hide the illegal drugs in a pocket when he could fucking _carry_ them down the street?

 _Idiot._

As all of their eyes converged on the packaging – Seth arriving to stand at Dean's side – Bo swallowed nervously, his small eyes flickering and then, without warning, he suddenly took off.

"Shit."

In the time it took to blink, Seth and Dean were after him, their long legs easily keeping the pace. Bo was not a big guy, but he was certainly bulky and running for his freedom which gave him an added edge. Unfortunately however – given his blind panic – what he did _not_ pick up on was Roman coming in fast, having circled round the block in their trusty surveillance van before hopping out to cut their suspect off at the pass.

Sure enough, as Bo looked round to keep tabs on his pursuers, he collided with Roman and toppled backwards with a yelp. Under the impact, the plastic bag shot from his fingertips and skittered across the ground towards Seth's incoming feet,

"Well, well, well, what do we have here?"

Lying on his back Bo seemed more puppy-like than ever, in a sort of _I love you please don't hurt me_ kind of way. It didn't exactly detract from the moment that Seth unravelled several wraps full of drugs, but it _did_ succeed in making it more pitiful and Dean rolled his eyes and heaved out a sigh,

 _Damn._

"Are you – ," Bo whimpered – actually _whimpered_ – missing only a tail to wag across the ground, "Are you going to send me to jail?"

It was and always had been the man's greatest worry, which was why it made literally _no_ fucking sense at all that he spent his days willingly wrapped up in crime. Still, Bo Dallas was a _non-sense_ sort of person.

A muscular, wide-eyed, moronic, _puppy-man_.

"That all depends," Roman growled down at him, doing a great impression of a canine himself,

"Depends on what?"

"On what you can do for us."

Bo glanced at Dean, face pinched with apprehension,

"Detective Ambrose? What does he mean?"

Extending a hand, Dean hauled him upright and further assisted by brushing down his shirt. It was shiny and – _Jesus Christ_ – actually _glittery_ , like he'd come from a kid's party or a fucking cheer camp.

"He _means_ we're not here to arrest you just yet Bo,"

Hopeful eyes blinked and the smile spread,

"You're not?"

"We wanna ask you to do a little job for us, think you're up to it?"

"I can surely _hope_."

Somewhere beyond them, Seth and Roman exchanged glances and Dean bit a smile back,

"Oh yeah, didn't I say? He speaks like he was hand-drawn at _Disney_. It's okay, you get used to it but it kinda takes a while,"

With some sort of semi-order established and with Bo beginning to calm himself down, the high sense of tension that had accompanied the chase portion slowly started to ebb off as well and to further the illusion of _buddy-camaraderie_ , Dean swung an arm around Bo's shoulders and slapped him encouragingly on the chest,

"Now, this new friend of yours, Gentleman Jack Gallagher – ,"

Bo's expression brightened,

"He's British."

"Yeah, we know," Seth's interjection – unimpressed as it sounded – briefly threatened to temper Bo's flow and at the risk of their potential informant clamming up again, Dean drew him closer and kept up the cheerful tones,

"This new friend of yours, he's not a good guy Bo."

The younger man seemed genuinely stunned,

"He's not?"

"He cuts bad drugs," Roman put in carefully, evidently following Dean's lead on the _friendly front_ and trying not to sound as grumbly as he felt, "Two people have died already from what he's selling and there's currently a High School kid lying in a coma looking like she might not ever wake up."

" _Oh no_."

"So look Bo," Dean continued smoothly as Seth mumbled something and rolled disbelieving eyes, "We know that _you_ would never wanna hurt people – ,"

"Oh no – never,"

"Uh huh, like I thought. So that's why we need _you_ to get us an openin', we need you to get us an _in_. Tell this Jack guy that I wanna sell his stuff for him and then step back and let us handle the rest. I mean, that sounds like an easy enough favour to ask, right?"

Bo paused briefly,

"I – I _guess_."

Dean however wanted an affirmative and if Roman was a wolf and Bo was the puppy then he was like the dog with a bone,

"I mean, after everythin' I've done for you over the years man, keepin' you outta jail – what – three times now? I figure this is maybe the _least_ you can do for me. Unless you don't _want_ us to save kids from dyin'? Which, you know, would be totally your call – ,"

As expected, Bo's reaction was equal parts horror and _eagle-scout_ keen,

"No, no, I – I want to help."

Dean pulled him closer and squeezed,

" _That's_ my boy."

"So all I need to do is suggest you?" Bo glanced between them, "That's what I do?"

"Yeah man," Seth put in, deciding to play along with it since it seemed they finally had him on side, "Just say that Ambrose is like a _friend_ of yours or something, someone you can vouch for – stuff like that. But you've got to give him a different name,"

"What?"

"For example," Dean stepped in, his tones still easy, "I'm Jon, alright? No more of that _Detective Ambrose_ stuff, okay? Say it with me here Bo – Jon,"

The younger man nodded, his brain working madly as he tried to comprehend the fairly simple task,

"Jon."

"Look at that, huh? Kid's a natural," Dean slapped the younger man, beaming like a father who'd just found out the grades of an over-achieving son,

"Nice going man," Seth offered flatly, not entirely able to sound quite as pumped. In the slight pause, Dean pulled a card from his pocket and twirled it in his fingers,

"So when you've done that – when you've put my name out there – you give me a call. I told you, alright? We'll do the hard stuff, you can take it easy. You still on board? You still my guy?"

Bo took the card from his hand almost reluctantly, then stared at it for a second before nodding with resolve,

"Alright Detective Ambrose – oh, I mean _Jon_ – don't worry, I'll help you."

Seth bit back a snort,

 _Great._

But there was no denying that with Bo's desire to help them, the case had moved that tiny bit closer to being solved. Once they were inside Gentleman Jack's operation, all they needed was for him to slip up, to give them some drugs, or contract them for something and – _bam_ – in would come the city's cops, allowing the three of them to melt into the background and move onto better things.

It would _also_ get Stephanie off their backs.

Putting out a hand, Roman patted their informant, massaging the younger man's shoulders a bit.

"Good call man, Ambrose said you were a good guy,"

"He did?"

"Oh _yeah_ ," Roman nodded emphatically, pulling a face that made Dean grin and hamming up the adulation so terribly that not even Seth could stop from joining in, "Called you the best, said we could trust you."

"Oh yes sir, you _can_ , Bo won't let you down."

To make his enthusiasm even more obvious – although it was already practically visible from the moon – Bo clenched his fist and swung it with purpose, missing only a _golly_ or _gee whizz_. Dean choked back a cough of amusement and gently steered the younger man out of Roman's grip, turning him back towards the mouth of the alley and prodding him gently in the direction of home,

"Sure man, don't sweat it, we totally _bo-lieve_ you,"

The small eyes widened,

" _Oh_ , that's good."

"You want it?" Dean waved a hand around airily, "Keep it – it's yours, use it all you want."

"Thank you Detec – oh, um – _Jon_ ,"

Seth closed his eyes.

 _Christ_ what an idiot.

Was he seriously the best hope they had of getting in?

When he blinked back into the hazy alley half-light, it was to see Bo parting with an _actual wave_. He moved like he was heading home from a church picnic, almost skipping and humming a cheery little tune. He stopped again briefly when he was back beneath the streetlamps at which point he held the contact card up,

"Never fear fellers, we're gonna get 'em. Bo Dallas is officially _on the case_."

They watched him go with a mixture of emotions ranging from amusement to all out despair. The latter was Seth's and he blew a weary sigh out and swept back his hair as he slowly shook his head,

"Why do I get the feeling he's gonna screw this up for us?"

Dean shrugged,

"Because he probably will. Doesn't matter though, we only need him to get us in there, the rest of the crap we can get done ourselves."

With his chicken bucket calling him – and Seth's salad wilting – Dean turned and headed back towards the van, the younger of his teammates falling in alongside him and frowning a little,

"So, this guy – ,"

"You mean Bo?"

Seth nodded,

"That's the one. Doesn't he seem a little, I don't know – ,"

"Like a total fuckin' idiot?"

Dean's cheery bluntness made Seth cough and he quirked a brow at his teammate,

"Yeah."

"Bo's just got a different vibe, y'know? Lives in this weird little _happy_ place where everyone's great and bad stuff doesn't happen. It's kinda why I can't get too mad at him no matter how many times I catch him doin' stupid shit. People just seem to take advantage of the kid and make him do their dirty work,"

"Us included, right?"

Dean pulled a face, half-contemplative, half-rueful,

"Huh, I guess so. Didn't think about that."

It took him a beat to realize Roman wasn't following and he turned with a frown to walk backwards for a bit. Sure enough their resident Big Dog was still standing where they'd left him, looking fierce and statuesque.

"Hey, you comin'?"

"In a minute," Roman grumbled, "There's something I've gotta take care of – go ahead."

Figuring that the older man meant something along the lines of taking a leak against the side of the alley wall – the one thing their surveillance van _hadn't_ been equipped with for obvious reasons was a bathroom space – Dean again spun and headed for his hot wings, chattering lightly with Seth as he went.

Roman watched them go beneath tight brows, waiting until they'd turned clean out of the alley mouth. The second they had slipped out of his line of vision, the Big Dog was instantly on the move, spinning on his heels in the opposite direction and to a figure hunched awkwardly on one of the building stoops,

"You," he growled, watching the silhouette jump a little in what was obviously genuine surprise, "Didn't we make it clear back in the shop? What're you doing hanging around here?"

Awkward Guy – _Kevin_ , Roman thought his name was – stepped into a pool of bright streetlamp light. He was carrying a six-pack of beer that was unopened and in an instant Roman realized that the cans were a gift for Dean.

 _Damn it._

Why the hell couldn't the guy take the hint already? What did they have to say to him to get him to walk away?

In the face of Roman's guard-dog glare, Kevin stuttered a little uncertainly although the lawman could tell that he was also upset, not in a tearful or emotional sense however, but in a hot, angry, _spoilt child_ sort of a way.

"I – I just wanted to talk to – ,"

"I know _exactly_ and I'm telling you now, that's not gonna happen. _Leave him alone_."

"So what are you? His keeper?"

Roman snorted wryly.

He'd hand it to the guy, he certainly had balls.

"No, I'm his partner and his best friend which means I've _always_ got his back. Now, look, I'm sure you're a nice enough guy but don't test me Kevin, I've got a badge as well and if I see you sniffing round here or up in his space again, then _trust_ me, I'll use it. Do you understand?"

At some point Roman had broken into his _Dad Voice_ and in response, Kevin shuffled a little like a naughty child. He was flushing as well, from affront and embarrassment, but he didn't _say_ anything which struck Roman with alarm. He was just about to repeat the sentence – and in so doing royally cap off _Father Mode_ – when Kevin spoke up again, peering across the space at him and with so much bitter hatred that it caught him by surprise,

"Oh I _understand_ – I understand _exactly_."

Roman missed a beat,

"Good, then get out of here."

Under the ferocious brown eyes of the policeman, Kevin slinked off down the steps onto the street. The air around him was moist with condensation but he didn't feel the cold.

He was too amped up for that.

Setting his shoulders he stomped off angrily, his fist tensing wildly around the loops of the six-pack. Who the hell did the guy think he was anyway? Scaring him away from his new best friend. Kevin had heard his name in the fast food place – Roman he'd been called.

Well Roman was a dick.

What did this _Roman_ guy know about friendship?

Kevin kicked a trashcan in anger,

" _Total_ dick."

But in hindsight – he considered – it was only a minor setback. There was a much bigger picture that he was working his way towards.

Back in the chicken place there had been a connection, not between he and Roman but between he and the _other_ man. The scruffy copper blonde who had come to his rescue, who had such easy confidence.

His new best friend.

It didn't matter that Roman had warned him because it was _Roman_ who was the one that didn't understand. It was Roman who wasn't a good friend or partner and that was something that Kevin would make clear.

 _Detective Ambrose_.

Kevin had heard them talking.

 _Detective Ambrose_.

That was his name.

* * *

 **I usually end up having to say sorry to some wrestler or other for these fictions and in this one it's definitely Kevin. Sorry Kev. But it's all for the greater good of writing. I'm sure he gets that...right?**


	3. Love Is Dangerous

**Okay, so, hands up who wants a chapter from Kevin's viewpoint? I hope the answer's all of you...because here it is!**

 **SkittlezLvr79, Yeah, Kevin is not a big fan of Roman or anyone other than Dean as it turns out! Hope this chapter gives you an insight. I kind of like crazy KO here.**

 **Ohana1337, Don't worry, I certainly am a little mean to him but nothing too gratuitous or out there or messed up. I will always be a mild discomfort/peril fan. Nothing hardcore. You should be okay!**

 **Mandy, I hope you like this one. I decided it would be interesting to try and get into Kevin's head. Hopefully everybody else agrees!**

 **Irishfan62, No, I'm totally off KO's guest part list. Oh and as for Bo, he pops back up. I know I've made him a total and utter idiot but I'm ridiculously fond of him here!**

 **Debwood-1999, One-shots are coming along nicely. Got all sorts of little ideas floating round. Hope you get more of a feel for KO. Or not, I've made him pretty darn mad!**

 **Skovko, I love writing the three guys bickering together. Almost as much as I love writing Dean beaten up and the others upset. They're on kind of a par. I think I have a problem. Is there a detox course for people who like hurting their leads?**

 **Rebel8954, Yep, it's basically character assassination when it comes to KO here! But I've got to admit, I liked writing him as a madman!**

 **Ninjoy, Bo might be the hidden gem of this story. He makes a couple more appearances which I think (or at least, I'm** _ **hoping**_ **) are even better/funnier than that!**

 **AngelOfDeathOfWrestling, Yeah, pretty sure that I give Dean the worst ever luck! Still, he's never too unlucky with the boys there to look out for him!**

 **Over to the Mac...**

* * *

 **Love Is Dangerous**

Suplex City – so the internet told him – was made up of a total of twelve police precincts, which meant twelve separate buildings to check out and then tick off his special list.

Said _list_ had been written out the previous evening, carefully, by hand and with no detail spared. Beside each precinct was the street name, some brief directions, opening times and the order he would visit them in. He also decided that he would have to start out early to stand a chance of hitting them all, which was why, the next morning as the doors were being opened Kevin Owens was right there, front and centre of the queue.

 _Stop One._

 _The Ninth Precinct._

He took a deep breath and stepped through the doorway, then up to the desk with a building resolve. The man behind the counter – one of those old timers with a grey moustache and wild eyebrows – looked up from a file and quirked a quick brow at him, clearly wondering why the hell he was so keen,

"Can I help you son?"

"I'm looking for someone."

The old timer let out a weary sounding sigh,

"People need to have been missing for twenty four hours before you can come in here and file a report. When did you last see the individual? Do you have any immediate concerns for their health?"

Kevin blinked,

"Uh, no – he works here, or, I mean, he works for the police."

"He's staff?"

"A detective," Kevin offered proudly, puffing his chest out and unable to hide his smirk,

"Name?"

"Ambrose, Detective Ambrose."

The old timer thought for a second then shook his head,

"Sorry, no one by that name in these parts sonny – you sure you're at the right precinct?"

"Uh, I – _no_."

Try as he might, Kevin couldn't help his shoulder-slump or the sudden sullen _petulant_ sounding tone. It had probably been foolhardy to assume that his new best friend would be at the very first precinct he tried, but a part of him had kinda hoped he _would_ be.

Obviously not.

Still, his list remained intact and so rather than make a scene in the lobby – which would have been a _terrible_ idea – Kevin simply cleared his throat and nodded, trying to look cheerful,

"Forget it, thanks anyway."

One down and out, eleven more still to go.

Sadly however, it was the same at the next precinct, with an underpaid and decidedly unimpressed clerk who shrugged his shoulders without even thinking and didn't seem to care.

"No Ambrose here. You haven't got a first name?"

Another sullen huff from Kevin,

"Not yet."

"Well, maybe come back when you have."

As the day wore on, the answers stayed similar. People either hadn't heard of an Ambrose or _thought_ they had but couldn't remember where. If he was honest then it was all a little bit disheartening but there was something important – almost vital – at stake for him and so despite being knocked back, Kevin wasn't giving in.

Still, it was almost six thirty and eight precincts later when he finally got the breakthrough he'd desired, plodding dejectedly up to the desk clerk and positively _muttering_ ,

"Does Ambrose work here?"

"Dean Ambrose? Detective?"

Kevin's heart jumped bodily, his whole face brightening up in excitement,

 _Yes._

"Yeah, that's him. Is he – is he here now?"

"No, sorry, he's on special assignment, has been for about the last six months."

It was as much as Kevin could do to stop from screaming. He was close – _so_ close – yet still not close enough. What were the odds of finding his precinct but still not finding the man himself? Then the added details of a _special assignment_? What the hell did that even mean?

He had something though, he had a first name now.

Dean.

Dean Ambrose.

Kevin Owens' best friend.

Looking up from the computer and clearly seeing his dejection, the desk sergeant offered him up a little frown,

"You a buddy of his or something?"

"Yep, uh huh, a buddy, that's – that's right."

He sounded keen – as in _ridiculously_ eager – even to his own muffled ears, barely able to drink any noise in over the excited beat of his heart. The desk sergeant's gaze drew in just a little in what looked like confusion, suspicion or both. He was probably wondering why Ambrose's _buddy_ didn't have his phone number or even know where he was.

"Oh you are, huh?"

"Yeah – ," Kevin faltered briefly, sucking a deep breath in and issuing a lie, "I've been out of town for a while, _um_ , working. Kinda lost touch, you know how it is? But I'm back now and it looks like I'm going to be staying, so I was hoping we could go out for a beer and _reconnect_."

It was by no means the most polished of deceptions or performances – mainly because he'd always been taught that lying was bad, Momma had certainly whipped him for lesser things and Papa had whipped _her_ for more minor things than that – but it was plausible if nothing else and the desk sergeant bought it, grunting a little and then nodding his head,

"Don't know."

"What?"

"I don't know where he is son, that's the point of _special assignments_ you see? Don't exactly advertise what they're doing or who they're with or that sort of thing."

"Roman," Kevin murmured back at him darkly, the name alone serving to bring down his mood, "He's hanging around with a guy called Roman and another one, smaller but with long hair too."

" _Rollins_? Seth Rollins?"

Kevin shrugged back at him, the astonishment meaning little in the grand scheme of things.

"I don't know."

In response to the news – which was clearly a shock to him – the desk sergeant blew out a breath and shook his head, in much the same fashion as an elderly grandmother who'd recently been shown how the internet worked.

"I swear no one tells me anything anymore, this place is going to hell in a handcart. Why twenty years ago – ,"

"So do you know where Dean is?"

"Not in specifics sonny, no."

The answer caught Kevin like a blow to the system. He could practically _feel_ Dean he was so close and yet despite having found the right precinct, he still couldn't find _him_.

 _God damn it all._

If he was honest then Kevin was sort of at an impasse. Although at least now he had the full and complete name. Maybe he could find out where he lived or his phone number? Maybe the next stop would have to be city hall? Whatever he did however, it wouldn't be immediate, since everything would have already closed down for the night. It was a bitter blow though and it made Kevin grumble, fighting down a measure of ever growing rage.

He was halfway across the floor towards the doorway and the cold dark night when the sergeant called out, a puzzled but hopeful sounding note to his gruff tones and a shrug thrown in for good measure as well,

"You could try _Swiss Tony's_ ,"

"Huh?"

"Bar on seventh. Ambrose knows the owner, it's where those three guys used to hang out."

It wasn't quite a definite suggestion but it was _something_ and Kevin took it keenly with both hands,

"Uh, thanks. I – I will man, _Swiss Tony's_. That's – that's. I'll do it. Alright."

The desk sergeant almost instantly went back to muttering, about the old days and how things had been easier back then. In many ways the veteran was the quintessential stereotype but Kevin Owens was way too far gone to care.

He had better things to be doing.

Like getting down to Seventh Street and finding himself his new best friend.

Outside the night was starting to draw in again and a chill spring wind was starting to stoke up. Winters usually ran long in Suplex City, mirroring the mood of the people that lived there. While all around the country, pretty flowers were blooming and brightening up in the tempering frost, in Suplex the world was still painted in greyscale, emboldened only by the sporadic splash of blood red.

Swiss Tony's – as promised – was located on Seventh Street and was actually a pretty nice little place. It was located down some steps off the sidewalk into a basement but once he got inside it didn't seem cheap. In fact it had a sort of an _old world_ charm about it, like Kevin had stumbled into a nineteen twenties joint, with art deco fittings and a glossy dark wood bar top and a sense of class he didn't usually get. Given that it was dark, there was lighting almost everywhere, blending modern chic with historical appeal. The many picture frames were illuminated brightly, as was the bar edge and the alcohol shelves.

Kevin wasn't sure he'd been anywhere so fancy.

Would Dean and his teammates really be here?

Squeezing his way past the first few packed tables, he looked up and saw a sign on the bar, suspended between two bulging shelves of whisky and written out proudly,

 _Cops drink free._

Well _that_ certainly made the odds more likely and so Kevin put his head down and pushed through to the bar, grasping the well-polished edge like a lifeline and panting a little at the buzzing in his head. He wasn't really _good_ with people, never really had been and not in a bunch. He was still sucking air in when a figure stopped in front of him, polishing a glass and looking over with a grin,

"It's a little bit busy in here today, sorry. What can I get you to drink, my man?"

The guy was tall – even taller than Dean was – and spoke with an accent that clipped over his teeth. His head was shaved and his eyes shone warmly with a masculine sort of confidence that Kevin had never felt.

"I – uh – no, I'm waiting for someone."

Tall guy nodded,

"No problem man. But if you change your mind, give me a call. I'm Cesaro, I'll get you your poison."

"Uh huh – um – _thanks_ ,"

Kevin's face flushed fast at the gesture as it tended to do when faced by new folks. For the most part people were cruel and unkind to him. It was why he had latched onto Dean so hard. Not only had Dean _not_ joined in the teasing when the horrible kids had been busting his chops, but he had then stepped in and chased them away again. Dean had extended the olive branch first. He had actively _chosen_ to step up and defend him and that made them instant best friends in Kevin's book.

The only problem was that Kevin was unpractised – he'd never really had a true friend before – and the last thing he wanted was to do something awkward. He didn't want to somehow end up scaring Dean away. He wanted to be cool and casual like Cesaro but as the crowds parted slightly and his eyes fell on a table, any hint of poise went instantly to hell.

 _Dean._

Dean was sat on a table in the corner, leant back against his chair, long legs stretched out. He was nursing a glass of some clear liquid and absently chinking the ice against the sides. Kevin assumed it was something cool like _vodka_ or a million other drinks he'd not been allowed to have. His mom had thought alcohol was the work of the devil, but if Dean was drinking it then it couldn't be _all_ bad.

He was smiling too – Dean was – grinning wryly and the lop-sided smirk made the breath catch in Kevin's throat. There was something laid back and uber hip about Dean Ambrose, like he didn't give a crap about what anyone else might think. Kevin liked that – he _needed_ someone like that.

He and Dean were a perfect fit.

He was halfway towards the table before he registered the others – Roman and Seth Rollins as he now knew they were – making up the chairs around his newfound best friend and looking as confident as he fervently wished _he_ were.

The bigger of the two – that _asshat_ Roman – was chuckling deeply and scrubbing a hand through his beard, a half-drunk bottle of beer on the table and a relaxed, mildly-buzzed look in his brown eyes. The smaller man, Seth, was talking with animation, waving his hands around and chattering fit to burst. The other two were watching him, occasionally sharing glances like older siblings indulging a younger brother's childish gab.

In an instant Kevin both hated it and wanted to join it. Well – that was – he wanted to join it with _Dean_. The other two could go kiss his hiney. He wanted nothing to do with either of them.

Above the background chatter, he heard Dean say something, although he was still too far away to hear what. It made his teammates laugh loudly however, Roman most of all and in response the big man threw a meaty hand out and thumped his palm across Dean's chest. Dean replied with a swift punch to the shoulder and Roman's eyes flashed.

 _Oh yeah? Bring it on._

Grinning widely, the _asshat_ flapped his paw out, flattening it round the back of Dean's neck and pressing him into a tight sitting headlock that Dean instantly tried to wriggle loose from. Seth was laughing, still sipping his beer casually and Roman and Dean were laughing as well.

But Kevin didn't see that, he didn't see the brotherhood.

All he saw was his friend in distress.

In the time it took to blink, he was across the room bodily and screaming at their table, steam _pouring_ from his ears,

"Get off him you demon – take your hands _off_ him."

Dean's head came free in a ruffling of loose curls and the blue eyes blinked up at Kevin in surprise.

"Huh?"

"Don't worry man," Kevin chirped back at him determinedly, his heart pounding fiercely but being driven on by love. He _needed_ to protect Dean, he was _going_ to protect him, if it took absolutely everything he had, "You're safe now, alright? I've got your back buddy. I'm not gonna let these guys touch you again."

For a second – or an hour – nobody said again, simply staring around the table in outright bewilderment and trying to work out what in the world was going on. Then Roman growled at him,

"What the _hell_ do you think you're doing?"

Kevin stood tall,

"I'm looking out for my best friend."

" _Best friend_?" Dean echoed with a frown of total bafflement before slowly starting to see the light, "Hold on a minute, you talkin' about _me_ here?"

Reaching down Kevin plucked at Dean's shirt sleeve, trying to tug the man towards him off the chair. In his mind it was the best way he could think to get him closer – to get him away from those who might cause him harm – but poor confused Dean seemed to totally misunderstand him and snatched back his arm with a ferocious sounding snarl,

"Get the fuck _off_ me."

"No, Dean listen – ,"

"And how the fuck do you know my name?"

The tersely snapped sentences triggered the big guy and suddenly Roman was back on the move, scraping his chair across the floor as he rose angrily and taking a step forward that backed Kevin up.

"I warned you," he growled, the brown eyes darkening until they were almost completely lost beneath his brow, "Didn't I warn you to stay the hell away from him?"

Kevin jutted his jaw out,

"I don't take orders from you,"

"Well then maybe you should."

Seth put a baffled hand up, looking between the warring men pretty much cluelessly and letting a questioning note lace his tone,

"Uh, guys? Wanna tell me what exactly is going on here? I mean, who is he?"

Roman grunted bitterly,

"The guy from the fast food place last night,"

"The guy from the – ," Seth stopped suddenly mid-sentence, "Wait, you mean the one that was hitting on Dean?"

In response to the less than flattering description Kevin actually physically baulked, his head snapping back like the sentence had _slapped_ him and a look of pure astonishment filtering in across his face.

"W- _what_?" he stuttered, feeling himself reddening, " _N-no_ , that's not – that's not what it is."

"Whatever man," Seth snorted back dismissively and what a surprise that _he_ was an asshole too, "What the hell are you doing here anyway?"

"I – I've come for Dean,"

"Come for Dean _for what_?"

At some point – Kevin couldn't remember when it had happened – Seth had also climbed to his feet and in the end the only one of them still seated was the man of the hour.

Dean Ambrose himself.

For his part Dean was simply frowning in bewilderment, blinking up at Kevin in subtle shades of alarm. He didn't look angry though – not like his teammates – instead he looked a mixture of disbelieving and confused,

"I've come to save him,"

"From what? From _us_?"

"You're – you're not right for him,"

The hotly delivered sentence made Roman growl again, with the words almost _rumbling_ out of his system,

"So what? You're telling us you think _you_ are?"

"I – I'm his best friend."

There was an awkward sounding silence, then a snort,

"Hold up man, no you're not."

It was Dean who had spoken and at the sound of his gruff tones, all three participants of the impromptu _glaring contest_ swiftly glanced down at the table again. Dean was looking up at them, his blue eyes electric and seeing them Kevin didn't know what it meant,

"What? Y-yes I am,"

"No you're fuckin' not, alright? I've met you _one time_ – ,"

"You saved my life,"

"C'mon," Dean groaned, "I scared some fuckin' kids off. It was somethin' an' nothin' – ,"

"Nuh uh, not to me."

Kevin was aware that he was beginning to sound childish, but in the moment he simply couldn't make himself stop. The _one_ thing he had been afraid of was happening.

He'd done something wrong.

He'd scared Dean off.

In the hesitant pause, Seth attempted to shift closer, his hands held up like he was approaching a wild dog. It was obvious that he was going to try and end things peacefully and knowing it made Kevin's anger start to implode.

He never had been much good at controlling his emotions.

It was something else that Mama had beaten him for.

Sometimes if he tried really hard he could bury them but that technique could only work for so long. Once things got too jumbled in his headspace – the fear, the self-loathing, the anger and remorse – there was little he could do to stop it, or _himself_ , from blowing up,

"Look man – ,"

" _No_ ," Kevin yelled out so loudly that almost the entire place fell quiet and looked around. He wasn't talking to Seth Rollins any longer, he didn't care about the other two men. He was staring down at Dean, intense and unblinking and the next part of the sentence was meant solely for him, "You – you did what a _best friend_ does. You _helped_ me, looked out for me – ,"

"I'm not your best friend,"

"But – ,"

" _My_ best friends are right here," Dean snarled back, opening his hands denoting Roman and Seth, " _These_ guys, alright? Not you man. _Them_."

"But you _saved_ me."

"I'm sorry, that's how it is."

Dean didn't _sound_ particularly sorry and nor did he especially _look_ it too, staring up coolly with a mild hint of anger and a frisson of danger which Kevin hadn't seen before.

 _Huh?_

A normal person would have taken the hint from it, but then Kevin wasn't normal nor had he ever been and so instead of retreating or apologizing or _something_ he let his frustrations completely overflow,

"Damn it you _are_ – you _are_ my best friend and I'm not going to stop until I get you to see,"

Although as he made a red-misted move forward, he was swiftly blocked by three other men. Roman and Seth – who made a wall before their teammate – and a third pair of hands that grabbed him from behind, twisting his left arm back at such an angle that Kevin actually yelped out loud,

" _Ah_ – ,"

"Oh no you don't, not in my bar partner,"

Kevin was surprised to hear the accented voice again, still sounding chirpy as it spoke into his ear. Before he had the time to dwell on it however he was being hauled back across the hardwood floor, forced into an ungraceful frog-march towards the doorway which forced him into screaming wild obscenities as he went,

"You're mine Dean, you hear me? You're _my_ best friend now. Nobody is going to take you away from me. _You're mine_. I'll find you buddy – wherever you are, I'll find you."

It didn't seem to do much good. No one replied to him and he couldn't wrench himself loose, but it sure made him feel a lot better to hear it said. He needed to let Dean know he would be there. He needed to let him know he wasn't going anywhere. Because he and Dean were destined to be together, Kevin could feel it, like was written in the stars. Okay, so maybe there had been a mild setback and Dean was frightened or else annoyed by him now but at the same time that was fine, Kevin _knew_ he could fix that and once he did everything would be fine.

Well, provided he got Dean away from Seth and Roman.

Those two were trouble.

They were altering who Dean was.

Without them – Kevin knew – he and Dean could be happy and Dean could be himself without having to be _one of the guys_.

Just before he was shoved out through the doorway, Kevin spun back to get himself one last look. Dean was still sitting in the chair where they'd left him but Kevin's blood boiled as Dean's teammates crowded round. Seth was shaking his head and looking antsy, his eyes fast burning a hole in Dean's head. Roman on the other hand was standing to one side of him, a big hand on Dean's shoulder but his gaze on _him_. He was _literally_ staring Kevin out across the table tops and giving him a silent last warning to stay away.

"Hey, you okay man?" he heard Seth asking and Dean nodded mildly,

"Sure, _I guess_ ,"

Why would he not be okay? Kevin wondered as Cesaro swung open the door onto the street. Didn't they know that Kevin was looking out for him?

Never would he _ever_ let Dean Ambrose get hurt.

The chill evening air hit him clean around the system as the bald headed European tossed him out towards the steps, pushing him with such a propulsion of disapproval that Kevin half-staggered and then barked his shin.

"Stay out, you hear me?" Cesaro pointed warningly, "I don't want to see you in here again."

 _Don't worry –_ Kevin wanted to tell him – _not a problem._

After all, what use did Kevin have for bars when he had never even touched a drop in his life? The only real reason he'd been there in the first place had been to find Dean and he'd done that.

 _Check._

Now he just needed to get Dean alone somehow and the two of them could start living the cool _buddy_ life. He wasn't sure exactly when or how he would do that, but he wasn't concerned.

He knew he would find a way.

All he had to do in the meantime was watch and wait.

He could _certainly_ do that.

* * *

 ***Repeats 100 times* Sorry Kevin! But I hope you were all intrigued by the snapshot into his life. Focus back to the guys from now on. Guided tours of Kevin's psyche are officially now closed.**


	4. Future Games

**Right, so I figure it's about time I added another face in and I** _ **think**_ **you might all know who this one is…**

 **SkittlezLvr79, Yep, Kevin is way off the deep end in this one and sadly his mental state will only get worse. Still, he kind of suits being crazy. At least I think he does! Not sure he would agree!**

 **Sodapop25, Never fear, I shall be back in three days. Can't seem to break my own three day rule!**

 **Raze Olympus, In that case I think that makes you my target audience! Hope I can live up to my own anti-hype!**

 **Mandy, I know, he did seem super happy bless him! I just hope we get ourselves a good long Shield run. No messing around and making it broken. Although if that happens I'll just have to write them good again!**

 **Irishfan62, LOL, I hear ya! I love my Bo. Pretty sure the real one would end up being horrified but it works for me that he's a cheerful idiot in this! Besides, it needs a bit of levity somewhere, so he's the one I've sacrificed!**

 **Debwood-1999, Oh my god, I remember that programme! Wow, major flashback straight to my childhood. Yes, my Kevin is totally like that. As for planning? Well, maybe** _ **sort**_ **of but he's more an opportunist as you will find out…**

 **Skovko, You know I like giving you a nice mental work out although this chapter might help to solidify things a bit. Or maybe it won't? You know I never tell. I'm a very cruel person, you should have realized that by now!**

 **Ninjoy, Well I figured that Kevin had to have a reason for being the sociopath we all know and love (in this story anyway). Besides, knowing his past makes him even more dangerous and it also ups the amount of protective Roman and Seth (love that side of them too by the way, so the pleasure's all mine!)**

 **AngelOfDeathOfWrestling, Me too! Something about KO just gives off evil, slightly crazy vibes *repeats to self* sure he's lovely in real life!**

 **Ohana1337, No, you can want to hug him a little. Glad that I've made you feel like that. Never been a fan of the old** _ **paper thin**_ **villain. I always like to make them have a little bite (or, you know, several screws loose instead!)**

 **Let's get reading!**

* * *

 **Future Games**

In the morning Roman was up bright and early, which wasn't that hard considering he hadn't got much sleep. Visions of Kevin and his screaming had disturbed him, not to mention the bulging neck veins and the spittle on his chin, which had flown as the man had shouted at his teammate.

 _Nobody is going to take you away from me. You're mine. I'll find you buddy – wherever you are._

Sheesh.

For his part Dean had seemed remarkably chilled about it, being slightly unsettled for the briefest of moments and then just sort of _shrugging_ it away. It was possible – of course – that he was simply pretending, but having known him for years, Roman didn't think he was. Besides, Dean had been in the police force forever, so on the face of it, ranting psychopaths weren't exactly new.

But this time it was different.

Roman could feel it.

This _Kevin_ guy was more than just some regular loony-toon. He wasn't some bum that they'd nabbed for armed robbery, or a gang member or a drug dealer. He was an unknown messed up schmuck, who'd zeroed in on Dean for scaring some kids off and wasn't about to let him go.

 _You're mine._

Those were the words that Roman found most troubling. They just weren't normal. Who talked like that? They were also the words that had driven him from his mattress and into their headquarters at just gone seven a.m., despite the fact that they didn't have work on and despite the fact that it was their first free weekend.

He had naturally assumed that he would be at the warehouse solo, which was why he was surprised when he ascended the staircase to be greeted by a familiar chirp,

"Hey."

Roman frowned,

"What are _you_ doing here so early?"

"Was going to ask you pretty much the same thing," Seth replied, spinning round on his desk chair and quirking a brow at him through a mist of coffee-steam. His computer screen was blinking brightly in the background and Roman waved a hand,

"Couldn't get to sleep, needed to come in and look something up a little."

Seth took a sip of his java and snorted, shifting his monitor around with one hand,

"Let me guess, would that be _this_ guy?"

Kevin Owens' face flashed up on the monitor, younger and less bearded but him all the same. The sight of the fat features _alone_ made Roman's fists twitch and his expression promptly darkened as his body tensed up.

"Yeah, that's him – wait, you're saying he's got a record?"

"From about twelve years back, but yeah, he does."

"What for?"

"Kidnapping and false imprisonment apparently,"

Roman's face screwed up in bafflement,

"What?"

He'd kind of assumed that someone like Kevin – unhinged and dangerous – had been in trouble with the law, but he'd _also_ assumed that said _trouble_ would be fighting, losing his temper and brawling or punching someone out. Kidnapping was probably the one thing he _hadn't_ banked on and it lessened his anger as it was replaced by vague shock.

Seth took a bracing sip of his coffee and turned back to the rap sheet to read out the facts,

"Some neighbourhood kid he took a liking to or something. Grabbed him and then held him in basement of his house. Owens' parents said they had no idea about the whole thing but they've both got pretty long records themselves. Domestic abuse, child abuse, you name it, real nice family."

Roman snorted,

"Yeah."

"No wonder this Kevin dude's pretty fucking messed up,"

"What about the kid he grabbed?"

Seth glanced back,

"Sami Zayn, lived five doors down. Kevin had him tied up for almost four days. Claimed he was trying to _save_ him from danger, said they were _best friends_. Sound familiar to you?"

Roman let out a groan of frustration,

"God _damn_ it."

"So I take it I was right to be worried then? I mean, we _are_ worried aren't we? About how set he is on Dean now?"

"Yeah," Roman nodded, "Damn straight we are."

Seth leant over and plucked up a sheet of paper, handing it across to his teammate with a sigh,

"Good, that's why I figured I should probably talk to this guy. Managed to find his most recent address. Wanna tag along and check it out with me?"

Roman stared down at it,

"You're gonna talk to the Zayn kid?"

"Sure," Seth answered, shunting his chair back and shrugging on his jacket as he juggled his drink, "Who better to tell us about what Owens is thinking? Or what the hell he might try to do. Because I'll tell you what man, if he _is_ gonna try something, then I'd rather we had all the damn facts."

As the low morning sun swung slowly round the dockyards, it began to pool warmly across Roman's feet and he sighed and stretched his aching bones wearily, before jingling the keys in his pocket,

"I'll drive."

As it turned out – and despite the teenage kidnap – Sami Zayn had done well for himself and so rather than heading back into the city, Roman and Seth drove out towards the suburbs with their neatly positioned houses and sprinklers to green the lawns. In their line of work they didn't get to see the outskirts – too busy in the gutters with the scum of the earth – and nor did they often receive a warm reception.

In visiting Sami Zayn, they ended up with both.

"Fellers, welcome, what can I do for you?"

That was how their conversation started out, before Roman could even wrestle free his old detective badge and before either one of them could even get out who they were. Seth shot a half-amused expression at the bigger man and then cleared his throat,

"Look, we kinda need your help."

"Uh oh," Sami chuckled, rubbing his stubble, "That sounds serious."

Roman flashed the badge,

"It is."

Realizing that the newcomers who had arrived on his doorstep were not the type for joking around, Sami let his expression sober slightly and frowned at them a little,

"Uh, what's going on?"

"Mind if we come inside?" Seth asked him, stepping towards the house before the words were fully out and really it was a credit to Sami's life philosophy that he let them both do it without even a shred of doubt.

"Sure."

Inside the house was domestic and comfortable and scattered with the signs of a happy family life. Children's toys and books were strewn across surfaces and a scruffy looking dog sauntered up to sniff their boots. Roman casually leant down and scratched it, catching the fur beneath the canine's ears and instantly managing to trigger its back foot. Honestly, it was kind of like a kick to the system – a stark reminder of what he'd once had.

Only _his_ happy family had never been quite right.

They'd mostly been trying to make it work for the kids.

He and his wife – well, soon to be _ex_ -wife – seemed to get on better now they weren't sharing the same space. The time he spent with his _children_ was better, more purposeful and happy.

Plus he had Dean and Seth.

Thinking about the former made his glower slink in again as he promptly remembered the reason they were there and so as Sami showed them into the great room and gestured towards the sofas, Roman wasted little time,

"Kevin Owens," he started, side-skipping the preamble, "What can you tell us about him?"

"Oh wow,"

Seth shot Roman a quick look of warning and then tried a slightly more gentle approach,

"Look man, I'll level with you here, alright? Owens has been taking an interest in our buddy and we kinda need a heads up on what we can expect, so if there's anything you know of that you think _we_ should know about then we'd really honestly appreciate it man,"

In response to the question, Sami blew a breath out and shook his head as if he was dazed. Possibly he was and Seth wouldn't have blamed him, it was a lot to take at eight thirty on a Saturday after twelve years of no doubt trying to forget the whole thing,

"Yeah, okay," Sami nodded somewhat jerkily, "Yeah, it's just, I mean, you know – _wow_."

"I know it's difficult man," Seth continued, "But _anything_ that would help us – ,"

"So he's after your friend?"

Seth paused,

"Yeah, we think he is."

"Damn," Sami sighed, rubbing his wrists absently although Seth didn't like to dwell on why that was, "I knew it, I _knew_ he would do this again someday. That's why I wanted that dude locked up. Didn't know I could push for that to actually _happen_ , I mean, I was only eighteen back then, you know? Plus I'd been locked up nearly four days in that basement, my head was all over the place, I was pretty broken down. Then I've got the legal team telling me his background and how he was beaten and abused and all that, so I figured – what the hell – these guys know what they're doing and if they think they can _fix_ him then who am I to say no?"

Seth eyed him carefully,

"Hey, it's not your fault man. No one is blaming you here, alright?"

Sami nodded,

"Yeah, I know, sorry – just talking about him kinda dredges it all up."

"Sure, we understand."

"So what is it you're looking for?"

"Well," Seth exhaled, exchanging a look with Roman and getting a silent nod that allowed him to take the lead, "How about we take it from the top, man? I mean, how did your whole deal with Kevin even start?"

Sami, who had been sitting on the couch arm comfortably, promptly jumped back up onto his feet, beginning to pace with purpose around them, like a frustrated tiger trapped in a cage. He made it twice round the coffee table before grinning, cheerful but sheepish all in one glance,

"Sorry, I kinda gotta do this when I'm nervous. You guys mind?"

Roman blinked,

"No, go ahead."

"Right, okay, so, _how it got started_ ," Sami laughed dryly, "Damned if I know. I mean, I only met the guy a couple times before he grabbed me, spoke to him _once_ – ,"

"What did you say?"

At Roman's deeply intoned question, Sami stopped pacing and looked up with a startled blink. Clearly whatever he'd been expecting to answer, the minutiae of conversation hadn't been it.

"Uh, well, that's the point – I barely said _anything_. All I did was chase away a couple kids."

" _What_?"

As Sami's admission shivered through both of them, Seth and Roman exchanged a haunted look, something akin to dread settling down in them.

No.

It couldn't be.

Seth cleared his throat,

"What do you mean you _chased away a couple of kids_?"

Sami shrugged,

"You know, just some neighbourhood kids, giving him a hard time for being a little _different_. Typical teenage stuff like that. My mom always used to say she felt sorry for him – being home schooled with those strict parents of his – no wonder he was kinda cuckoo for cocoa puffs. Guess that's why I kinda went to his defence. More fool me, huh? _That_ sure backfired. He pretty much became obsessed with me after that."

"Obsessed _how_ exactly?" Roman pushed, frowning.

This was the bit the two of them had come to hear.

"Just showing up outta nowhere, unexpected. Being places where I was and kinda _hanging around_."

"What about your other friends?"

Sami chuckled dryly,

"Oh yeah – _wow_ – he didn't like them, called them _bad influences_ on me or whatever, said he wanted to _save me_ from them. Pretty ironic when you think about it though, right? That guy wanting to save me from _them_?"

Seth and Roman didn't follow his amusement, both of them too busy lost in deep thought. The unsettling truth of the matter was startling. Kevin was doing the exact same thing to Dean. It was practically a carbon-copy of behaviour which meant the next step was –

Seth blinked.

Well, _what_?

Seemingly working with his teammate on telepathy, Roman shifted forwards again, coming so perilously close to the couch edge that the younger man wondered that he didn't fall clean off.

"What happened after that?" he ground out severely, "When did he take you? How and where?"

Instantly Sami resumed his anxious pacing, at the same time running hands through his hair. Honestly, Seth felt bad they were pushing him, forcing him back to the dark place in his mind. Still, what other option did they have _but_ to push him? How the hell else were they supposed to save Dean?

"Um, that was – that was kinda late one evening, I'd been out doing nothing much with my friends. We'd been smoking in a parking lot somewhere, real cool, right? But it must have left me kind of _buzzed_ or whatever and I guess I wasn't paying much attention at the time – ,"

He paused uncertainly and suddenly stopped moving, bracing himself against the fireplace shelf,

"Mr. Zayn?"

"I'm okay, it's just – it's just difficult. Being locked away down there wasn't exactly _fun_ for me. At times I – I thought I might never get out of there. It does things to your mind being at someone else's mercy and I'd kinda tried to bury that part over the years."

Seth licked his lips uncertainly,

"We can stop man."

"No, no," Sami offered bravely, throwing his hands up, "I really wanna help you guys outta this jam here. You know, stop the same thing from happening to your buddy and make sure Kevin doesn't hurt someone again."

Roman nodded evenly,

"Take all the time you need then,"

As it turned out Sami needed about a minute – seemingly to organize the timeline in his head – but eventually he drew in a breath of preparation and looked up at them shakily,

"He – uh – he knocked me out with a brick, like – _wham_ – right on the back of the head. I've still got the scar to prove it, bust me open, then I guess he must've sorta _dragged_ me off. Next thing I knew I'm tied to a chair in some basement which – it turns out – was actually his. The whole time I thought I was like a _million miles away_ and it turns out I was actually on the same damn _street_."

"His parents didn't hear anything?" Seth ventured frowning and Sami snorted wryly,

"Nah, you see, he had this scarf – ,"

The rest of the sentence fell off unspoken but fortunately both men knew precisely what was meant. Kevin had made sure that Sami couldn't call out and the reality of that was chillingly stark.

"So what did he want from you?" Roman asked quietly.

He raised a valid question.

What the hell had been the point?

"I _think_ he just kinda wanted someone on his wavelength," Sami shrugged, "Sort of a _buddy_ , you know? Someone to be on his side and not judge him or hurt him which is pretty much what everybody else did. I mean, I always felt like he had to be pretty desperate – ,"

"Which is what makes him dangerous," Roman countered, "Nothing to lose."

It also meant that something like kidnapping a fucking _policeman_ wouldn't exactly slow him down and clearing his throat to fight back the visual, Seth posed a new question,

"Was he violent at all?"

"Sometimes," Sami sighed back, "Not always, but he'd kinda blow hot and cold, like _really_ hot. Couldn't keep up with it – was kinda on a knife-edge – so yeah, I got a beating once or twice, usually for saying what _he_ thought was the wrong thing."

"What was the _right_ thing?"

Sami shrugged, his shoulders loose,

"That we were best friends, that we were gonna be pals forever – that kinda thing."

Roman heaved a heavy sigh.

Sure, _that_ figured – it didn't surprise him.

It was pretty much word for word what he had shouted at Dean.

"Look guys," Sami chipped in suddenly, raising a hand to awkwardly scratch a patch of short hair, "I'm not sure how much more of this I can cope with. It's kind of – uh – you know, it's kind of a _lot_."

Seth nodded back at him,

"No man, look, we get it. Thanks for what you've given us, it's been a big help."

Making a subtle _let's go_ gesture at Roman, Seth quickly slid from the arm of the couch, extending a hand in a token of gratitude that Sami gripped back and then almost shook off,

"Any time fellers, I'm just happy to be useful, but – uh – maybe next time a heads up first, huh?"

"Sure thing man,"

Behind them Roman stood up again, drawing himself to his impressive full height. In reality he was probably the same stature as Sami but he was easily _twice_ as muscular and he oozed power too.

"One more question," he rumbled out evenly, "Then I promise we'll leave you alone,"

Sami swallowed nervously but nodded back gamely,

"Yeah, go ahead,"

"How long was it?"

"How long was _what_?"

"How long was it between you standing up for him and Kevin grabbing you right off the street?"

Seth held his breath.

 _Another_ good question but one that held a million possible replies. Based on the answer, their anxieties would either lessen or else end up travelling straight through the roof,

"Oh wow, not long – I'd say maybe a week perhaps? _Less_ than that? I can't remember all that well."

It was _not_ the response that Roman had wanted and his jaw clamped shut as he bit down a swear.

 _Shit._

Fortunately he managed to fight it down well enough that he was able to shoot Sami a reassuring half-smile, deeply appreciating what the chirpy man had done for them and for the information they could use to save Dean,

"Thank you. We'll let you get back to your weekend,"

Sami's responding sigh of relief was audible, as was his energy as he shepherded them to the door,

"No, no fellers, the pleasure's mine, really. Hey, good luck with everything, alright?"

They hit the front door at the exact same moment it clicked open, amplifying the screaming of an entire horde of kids. It kind of figured that Sami Zayn would have a whole _raft_ of children since the guy was basically a big child himself and in the time it took for Seth's ears to stop ringing, there were redheaded boys and girls all around.

"Whoa," he chirped, "Who have we got here then?"

How many were there?

He tried to count.

Four? _Five_?

A person half-hidden behind a mountain of groceries clambered almost gracefully up onto the step, breezing past the three of them and through the screaming devil-spawn with the no-nonsense tones of a multi-tasking wife,

"Honey, can you come and help me unpack please? People will be arriving in less than three hours."

Watching her go, Sami smiled back winningly, bending down to scoop up the smallest of the children as it tottered haphazardly around on shaky feet,

"Sorry fellers, the wife is in party-mode to celebrate this little munchkin turning one. This afternoon the whole place will be invaded. Fancy staying and helping a guy out?"

Elaborately stepping over a small fire truck, Seth shot back what he hoped was a smile. In all likelihood it was more of a grimace, but he went with it anyway as Roman pinched the baby's cheek,

"Sorry man but we gotta go do _police stuff_ – no weekends in our line of work,"

He pulled at Roman's sleeve somewhat harshly, the message apparent.

 _Come the fuck on._

Reluctantly the big guy turned and followed him, as Sami shadowed them out onto the step. For a second they assumed he was coming to wave them off again, but then suddenly he hissed and made them both turn around,

"Hey, I'm not – I'm not in any danger here? I mean, Kevin's not gonna come back for me or right? I don't need to – like – send my wife and kids away some place?"

"No," Seth shook his head, "Nothing like that. He's not interested in you any more man, I promise."

The look Sami shot them was both thrilled and deeply grateful and he even chuckled,

"Wow, okay. I mean, that's good."

"But only because he's fucking interested in _Dean_ now," Seth murmured to Roman as they stalked off down the drive. Somewhere behind them Sami was still waving but neither man was watching, they were too wrapped up in thought,

"Least we've got something to work with," Roman grumbled,

"You think it's enough?"

"It's gonna _have_ to be."

Fumbling around in the pocket of his cargo pants, Roman wrestled past the keys for his phone, swiping his thumb left to bring it to life again and then typing in the passcode as Seth let loose a frown,

"Who're you calling?"

"Dean,"

"What? You checking in on him?"

"After that, don't _you_ want to know he's somewhere safe?"

Seth rolled his eyes,

"Of _course_ I fucking do man, but _I_ was going to say we should go round there and take him with us, go back to the warehouse and tell him what's going down. If we keep this shit from him, he'll only find out anyway and then he's just going to be even _more_ pissed."

At the sound of Dean's voicemail, Roman cursed angrily.

Their teammate had always been hopeless with his phone.

"Hey," Seth intoned, seeing the anxiety and moving to assuage it, "He's going to be _fine_."

It wasn't a particularly levelling statement since Seth couldn't _know_ that, but getting angry wouldn't help and realizing that his teammate was trying to help him, the bigger man fought the frustration back down,

"Yeah," he nodded, blowing a breath out, "But until this blows over, we're keeping him close."

"No arguments from me man," Seth retorted evenly, "I'll _handcuff_ myself to his ass if I have to."

Roman snorted, the visual flowing through him and joining a myriad of swirling images besides. Images of Kevin screaming across the bar at them, images of him lunging at Dean, images of their teammate captured and helpless.

Images.

So many images.

"Let's hope it doesn't come to that."

* * *

 **So, Sami Zayn (who has ruined my version of him by becoming evil in real life, honestly, how selfish) makes a showing here. I've got admit, I enjoyed putting in these cameos and there are still a couple more big ones to come!**


	5. Big Love

**So, despite the fact there isn't much talking, I kind of love this chapter. I have no idea why. Sometimes you can just sit down and the words fall out. This one was like that. Some of them stutter and start a bit more!**

 **Skovko, Haha, well, sadly it doesn't ever get quite that kinky, although once again you've got my one shot brain working here! That could be a hilarious one-off!**

 **SkittlezLvr79, Yep, just when you think KO's a little bit messed up, I crank the crazy up to eleven! Seth and Roman are going to try to stop him, but I cannot promise they'll do it in time…**

 **Irishfan62, Yep, he's not evil (although what a twist** _ **that**_ **would have been here, sadly, it's written and it would mess it up too far). Fun is one way to describe the next few chapters, although hopefully there are still a couple of laughs!**

 **Mandy, Is it wrong that I really want the boys to stay together forever? Not sure I'm ready for a Dean heel turn. We've been waiting for the reunion for ages. I know it's not possible, but give us at least six months (preferably a year or more…but, yeah, not gonna happen I guess!)**

 **Ohana1337, Sssh, don't wake up the neighbourhood! Unless you also make them read and review! Glad I got you in the feels again though. My work here is done! Well, it's not but, you know…**

 **Debwood-1999, Yes it is going to be a wild ride (you know me too well!) Vacation, in England huh? You'll be in my neck of the woods then! Hope you have fun here (wifi or not!)**

 **AngelOfDeathOfWrestling, I do paint Roman as a worried mother hen quite a bit (lots of more of that coming up over the next couple of chapters as well now I think about it!) I just figure he would be the worrisome one since he's the only daddy in the group and Dean is...well, Dean!**

 **MyPaperHeart16, Aww, glad I can up the Dean feels for you. I honestly love writing him (or, well, my version of him). He's just so complex and quirky. In fact, I'm addicted to writing him (there, I said it!) Fingers crossed they stay together again forever but I doubt that heavily, oh well!**

 **Guest, Aww, thanks. Glad you're enjoying it so far. Hope you love the rest as well!**

 **Rebel8954, Thank you, I'm honored to be part of your weekend chilling schedule! Kevin is a bit of a sad thing isn't he? But I like that. I wanted him to have depth. Glad you like that too!**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

 **Big Love**

At some point during the previous evening, Cesaro had managed to convince Dean to do a shot. Then another and – potentially – a third and even _fourth_ shot, which in hindsight had not been an especially good idea.

Dean hadn't drunk more than a couple of pathetic light beers in what was almost a year and a half and as he raised his bleary head from the pillow and felt his skull rattle, he realized why that was.

The second the fiery liquid had touched his taste buds, he'd known he was making a semi-colossal mistake, so why the hell he'd kept on going was anyone's guess.

Or not.

He knew why.

" _Ugh_."

It wasn't technically a recognized word as such, more a grumble, a drawn-out note of discontent. Rolling over only managed to get him tangled in the blankets and as his feet flailed pathetically in the crazy nest of fabric, he briefly wondered how he'd made it into bed. He certainly couldn't remember having got there, or – for that matter – having even left the bar, yet there he was, tucked up securely and only half-dressed although he was still in his pants.

Blinking up at the ceiling in bewilderment, he was hit by fuzzy flashes of what had possibly gone on. Roman and Seth fussing round him like nursemaids, peeling his shoes off and drawing his drapes. He snorted at the memory in groggy amusement which then doubled as his eyes fell on the nightstand by his bed.

 _Uce,_

Roman had scrawled somewhat clumsily on an envelope.

 _Take these and call me when you're up._

He had accompanied the note with a max strength box of pain pills and a large glass of water which told Dean one of two things. Either he had been completely wasted last time they'd seen him, or else they doubted his reformed liver's ability to handle it.

Actually on the latter point, they may have been right.

Behind the glass of water, Dean's alarm clock flickered and showed up bright red digits that proclaimed nine o'clock.

"Crap."

When he was younger he would have considered that still early but then he'd met _her_ and everything had changed. They'd got up together to take crazy sunrise hiking trips, or share breakfast in bed or do certain _other_ things.

 _Her_.

Damn.

He threw a hand out instinctively and let it caress her cool side of the bed. Not for the first time he hoped it was warm still and that she would suddenly bound in grinning and bouncing around. Mostly he just hoped it was all some cruel nightmare, or some weird twist of fate.

But it wasn't.

He knew that.

She was still gone and for the rest of time she always would be and there was nothing – _nothing_ – he could do to change what happened and even less he could do to bring her back.

As usual the realization came with a stab of nausea, which balled in his throat and threatened to creep up. Fortunately it was washed back down by Roman's pills and water and the cool stream of liquid almost succeeded in making him feel borderline human again. So much so that – defying the headache which was helpfully drilling in the spot between his eyes – he decided to try and reacquaint himself with daylight, which meant having to untangle himself from his bed.

It wasn't a particularly graceful extraction – he sort of _slithered_ more than he climbed from the sheets – but he managed it without cranking his shins on the nightstand and in the scheme of things that counted as a marginal success.

In stumbling to the bathroom he encountered another message, this one on a post-it in Seth's slightly terser hand,

 _Call us dumbass, don't make us come over here._

Okay, so clearly he had been really, _really_ drunk, the blame for which fell entirely on one person. If he could even be classified as that. Because really Kevin Owens defied all description.

He was a shell of a person.

A truly fucked up _dick_.

Fuck it all but it had been fucking _embarrassing_ to be yelled at across the bar like that. To have everyone look and wonder what the hell was happening as Kevin had thrown a bitch fit by the door. Cesaro had tried to help by hauling him away from them but in the end that only finished off the fucking show and the public humiliation was more than likely the reason that Dean had attacked the Swiss vodka like he had.

 _Fuck_.

Swiss vodka.

Made from rye and almost one hundred percent pure fumes. What in the hell had he even been _thinking_? Why had they let him touch the damn stuff?

Partly through stupor and partly through resentment, Dean decided not to call them right away and instead continued to shuffle round the apartment like an extra from a zombie movie.

 _The Morning After the Night of the Living Dead._

It took him close to fifty minutes – and one bout of vomiting – to get himself dressed, during which time he found a god damn _third_ note pinned to his fridge door.

 _Have something to eat._

Christ, it was like having an invisible nanny that had access to a ballpoint and very little else. Still, his teammates made a very good suggestion because – in spite of the barfing – he actually felt starved. At the very least he needed a coffee and so letting out a sigh, he grabbed up his jacket and shunted his reluctant feet into his shoes.

One of the main reasons he'd bought the apartment was for the happily sited coffee shop directly across the road. A nice one too, with eclectic fair trade blends and a suited, upper crust, business-type clientele. _She_ had wanted the apartment for it's brightness and the fact that there was a park just down the block.

 _For the kids_.

Dean swallowed heavily.

 _Nope_.

It was way too early to deal with that shit.

Coffee first.

Then everything else.

Given that it was a Saturday morning and cold and drizzly, the streets were pretty quiet, which meant that Dean could stumble wearily across the asphalt without running the risk of being mown down, it _also_ meant that he didn't have to queue much before finally placing his order-to-go.

"Coffee, black."

"Sumatran or Italian?"

Dean blinked back at her,

"Uh, how about you pick?"

She was a small little thing, blonde, just a kid really and having a gravel-voiced and buff looking man wink at her promptly sent her giggling off, clattering around with pots and coffee beans as she occasionally stole looks at him then blushed and looked away.

Dean smirked internally.

Yep, he still had it.

It was just a shame that nobody he knew was around to see.

As the sound of steaming water – or cream or whatever – filled the little coffee shop with a harsh sounding noise, Dean winced a little at the pounding between his eyeballs and then turned to lean back against the counter shelf.

That's when he saw him – or, at least, he _thought_ he did – standing across on the other side of the street and staring straight at him through the coffee shop's thick glass, half obscured by the foreign-sounding store name that Dean had never bothered to learn.

"What the – ,"

Instinctively he took a step forward, a cold bolt of shock clenching tight around his heart even as his brain tried to comprehend the sight.

It _couldn't_ be Kevin – he had to be seeing things.

How the hell would the man know where he lived?

But the more he stared the more the visual stabilized and – yep – there was Kevin, standing stock still, the smaller man's expression both stormy and stony and his eyes unblinking as he bored holes at Dean.

"The fuck is happenin' here?"

"Um, sir?"

At the sound of the barista's giggly voice behind him, Dean almost absently turned back her way, realizing that she was offering out his coffee but suddenly not interested in the strong dark blend. Instead his attentions were all on Kevin, except when he turned back again, the other man was gone.

As in _gone_ gone.

Like he'd never been there in the first place.

Which he had been.

 _Hadn't_ he?

"Ugh."

Dean gripped his head, a noise between a groan and a growl ripping out of him as he started to feel himself slowly going insane. He was almost _positive_ that he'd seen Kevin and his policeman instincts were well-honed and rarely wrong. But then again he _was_ pretty damn hungover and on the back of a period of sobriety too. Kevin Owens had railroaded the previous evening and dragged the whole mood down, so maybe he still was. Maybe Dean's addled and vodka-sodden psyche was seeing him everywhere as some _hilarious_ post-drunken prank?

Either way he was never touching shots again.

Swiss or otherwise.

He and alcohol were done.

"Um, sir, that's going to be six dollars."

Dean was so out of it he didn't even moan about the price tag, simply handing a bill across and then waving a hand at her as the girl moved over to jab at the till,

"Don' worry, keep the change."

"Oh wow," she beamed, "Thank you."

Clearly she was trying to make _come again_ eyes at him, but with the nausea and the _Kevin thing_ he was no longer in the mood and so instead he took a long drag of his coffee and then nodded off-hand as he shuffled for the door. Having been inside, the cold air seemed amplified and it physically sucked the air from his chest.

The entire time he was looking for Kevin, his aching eyes darting ever keenly back and forth. Every last car and building stoop were scoped out, each and every person was visually checked but each time he came up weirdly empty.

Kevin Owens was nowhere.

At least, nowhere he could _see_.

Making it safely back into his building, Dean let out an actual sigh of relief, surprised by the tension running wildly across his shoulder blades and making him hold himself stiff with alarm. It wasn't very often that Dean Ambrose was anxious and far less often that he was actually _scared_ but something about the chunky little stalker just didn't sit right with him.

He didn't like the way it felt.

Stepping aside to let by a neighbour as she shuffled through the stairwell door – it was a fairly old building, historic in Suplex terms which meant having to reach the upper floors by foot – Dean continued to dwell on his problems as he trudged the steps at a still groggy plod.

Roman had said he'd warned Kevin to stay away from him.

When had that happened?

It hadn't been in the shop.

Another sip of coffee flooded him quickly with added caffeine and despite his heavy limbs and the constant sense of _dullness_ , he could feel his system enlivening again. Okay, so maybe he wasn't feeling raring or ready but he would make it through the morning – without too much more vomiting – and in the scheme of things that seemed reasonable to him.

Digging a hand deep into his jeans pocket, he pulled loose his keys as his apartment fell into view, cursing as one of them got caught on the lining and came free with a tell-tale ripping of thread,

"Ah crap."

It was definitely _not_ shaping up to be his morning and as he stepped towards the door, he let out a weary sigh. At the same time however, his boot caught on something and shunted a small package several inches across the floor.

"Huh?"

Who the hell had left something on the carpet?

Knowing his luck he'd broken the damn thing.

Bending down – which caused his headache to worsen – Dean scooped the box up in one hand, turning it over and wrinkling his nose up as he tried to work out where the thing might belong. It took him a second to spot the tiny chicken scratch, etched to one corner of the badly wrapped square. It looked a little like a god damn _child_ had written it, but as he drank in the writing, he finally clued in.

 _Dean, from your best friend._

His stomach turned over and he backed into the wall with an unsteady bang.

Kevin had been there.

 _In_ his apartment block.

Not only that but _at his fucking door_.

"Fuck."

When had he –

How had he –

The questions swirled around him but they were too fast and frantic to properly spit out. All that Dean knew was that his instincts hadn't failed him.

He _had_ seen Kevin.

He knew he fucking had.

Putting down the package like a landmine Dean quickly fumbled his keys at the door, his drink-fogged and now god damn _trembling_ fingers making the simple task stupidly hard. Kicking the woodwork didn't help either but it did – very briefly – settle his mood and so when the fucking thing decided to _finally_ swing open, he was able to step across the threshold feeling calm.

Well, not _calm_ but not wild either.

Dean Ambrose had already formed a working plan.

Pulling his cell phone from his jacket pocket, he stalked across the lounge as it powered into life, dropping to a squat between the sofa and the bookshelves in front of the safe where his police revolver was. It was oddly comforting to know that even rattled he could still remember the combination with ease and in less than a second his gun was in its holster and resting in place alongside his belt. Its weight immediately made him feel better and he stood with a sigh and glanced down with his phone.

 _Seven missed calls._

 _Roman Cell._

Seven?

 _Now_ what in the hell was going on?

Crossing back out of the apartment like a sprinter – which didn't do wonders for his nausea or thumping skull – Dean reluctantly pulled the door behind him and then bent carefully to scoop the present up.

It didn't weigh a lot – which he guessed was a good thing since he'd kind of been expecting a bullet in a box – but it was flat and rigid like card or folded paper, at which point he reluctantly made himself stop. The last thing he needed was it blowing up on him or showering a hail of fucking _anthrax_ through the hall. His neighbour – Mrs. Sherman – had recently had her hip done and he was pretty damn sure a chemical attack in the doorway was more than likely to finish her off.

Instead he placed the gift across his palm gently and headed back towards the stairs, making sure to move both slowly and steadily and avoid sudden movements.

He just wanted it gone.

He was passing the first floor when his phone began ringing, the vibrations making him almost jump,

"Fuck."

He assumed it was Roman – or maybe even Seth this time – with another morning wake-up call to make sure he wasn't dead. The irony of that caught him briefly in amusement but although he snorted, he didn't pick up. His hands were busy opening doors and carrying _stalker gifts_ so until he got outside, communications would have to wait.

Stepping into the lobby he stifled a quick groan, biting back an expletive.

 _Crap._

Standing by the mailboxes was the woman from below him, whose name he had never quite managed to pin down. It was something like Daphne, or Dana or _Daria_. A well-heeled novelist who really liked to fucking talk. He had once watched his fiancée – _god_ she had been patient – stand in the same spot for almost an hour, nodding with what looked like genuine interest as Daria had nattered her poor ears raw. Eventually Dean had swooped in and saved her – citing somewhere they _suddenly_ had to be – but even _then_ she hadn't let them go lightly and they'd only just managed to avoid going round for tea,

" _What a fucking blowhard."_

 _She_ had clicked her tongue at him, wrapping arms around his elbow,

" _She's lonely, be nice."_

Interestingly he could probably understand that these days – loneliness, although not so much since Roman and Seth – but there was no way in the world he was in any place to talk to her so he crossed the lobby ninja-like on the balls of his toes.

Unfortunately for him, it didn't fucking work.

"Ah, Dean – ,"

 _God damn it._

"Can't stop Daria."

The woman's pencilled eyebrows narrowed at him quickly and she pursed her lips in obvious affront,

"It's Delilah."

 _Shoot._

"Uh, _yep_ , that's what I said."

He continued to cross the floor without stopping, sighing at his continued run of bad luck. He was only three feet from the entrance when it struck again and as the doors clattered open and a voice bellowed out at him, his surprise and the chill wind made the deadly package drop,

" _Dean_ – ,"

"Fuck – _no_."

Time stood still around him, his wide eyes watching as the parcel plummeted like a stone. Visions of explosions and chemical eruptions consumed him and he debated trying to push Delilah back a step, but fortunately for her – and him and fucking _all_ of them – nothing happened.

It simply landed with a thud.

In response, the air rushed out of him bodily and his shoulders sagged inwards in utter relief.

"Dean? What the fuck man?"

He looked up almost absently, taking in Seth and Roman standing in front of him, both of them looking alarmed and confused. Behind him Delilah let a snort out at the language in what was clearly the second offence of the day. It was probably just as well that Dean hadn't tried to tackle her, since she would more than likely have slapped a lawsuit on his ass,

"Young man – ," she began in brisk tones at Seth, but Roman whipped his badge out and quickly backed her up a pace, stepping smoothly over the non-explosive packet and pointing her in the direction of the stairs,

"Excuse me ma'am, but this is a police matter, you're going to need to give us some space."

For a second it looked like she was going to argue but in light of the fact that Roman was a monolith and pasted in tattoos, she swiftly changed her mind.

How was she to know he was a pussy cat?

Her retreating figure almost made Dean smile.

 _Almost._

"Dean, dude," Seth attempted for a second time, as Roman squatted down to get a look at the gift, "What the hell is going on in here? What _is_ that thing?"

His answer was dazed-sounding,

"Kevin left it for me."

" _What_?"

As Seth went supersonic, Dean's headache protested and he quickly clamped his hands to his ears.

" _Geez_ , not so loud, huh? You'll bring stray _dogs_ in."

Roman was more succinct,

"Kevin left it for you _where_?"

"New Jersey. Come on man, where the hell do _you_ think? He left it outside my fuckin' door."

"He knows where you live?"

Dean shrugged,

"Apparently. Either that or it was one _hell_ of a lucky guess."

In response Roman's face clouded over like a thunderstorm and his big fists began to flex and twitch. It was exactly what the Big Man had been dreading and in light of Sami's story it was _not_ a good sign.

Kevin had tracked Dean down to his home.

He had physically walked right up to his door.

Not only that but he'd gifted Dean something – a token – although god only knew what it was.

"You opened it yet?" Seth asked quietly, clearly reading his teammate's mind.

"Nope, was gonna get it over to the warehouse – open it real careful in case it was rigged to explode. Guess the fact that I just fuckin' _threw_ it across the lobby and we're all still standin' solves that problem though."

"So, are you _going_ to open it?"

Dean blinked.

 _Huh._

It wasn't like there was anything stopping him from doing it – since it thankfully seemed clear that it wasn't a trap – and so bending down he took it from the carpet and slid his finger under the seal. The tape that was holding the gift wrap steady came off easily and he peeled up the flap, running down the seam until the paper came away from it, revealing a ticket and a hastily scribbled note. He held it up so the others could see it and Seth read it out for them, sounding perplexed,

"To my best friend – ," he started, vaguely noting Roman's grumble, "Thought we could go to the big game on Friday, just the two of us hanging out and having some fun. See you there, I'll get that beer I owe you, can't wait man, Kevin."

Roman blinked,

"That's it?"

Seth turned the note over and then back again, nodding,

"Yeah, that's it."

"God _damn_ him," Roman growled as Seth peered at the item that was still tightly clutched in the palm of Dean's hand,

"Is that really a ticket for this Friday? I thought that game had been sold out for months. He must have paid a _fortune_ to get two seats together. Did he seriously look that rich to you?"

It was a perfectly valid question, but Dean had no answer.

He had no answer for _any_ of this stuff.

His head was still pounding and his guts were still churning and to cap it all off he'd left his coffee almost untouched. It was beginning to add up to a totally crappy Saturday and seeing his confusion and hung-over disorientation, Roman let out a steadying breath, putting a hand out and clapping his shoulders lightly before turning the gesture into a solidifying squeeze,

"Hey, don't worry," he intoned deeply, "We'll get this guy, alright? Make sure he leaves well alone."

Dean nodded back at him, mustering a smile up and Seth grinned back,

"Yeah, _that's_ the spirit man."

They were right, of course, they had his back.

 _Always_.

Everything was going to be totally fine.

* * *

 ***Obvious spoiler* Things will** _ **not**_ **be fine!**


	6. Mission Bell

**So, if anyone likes overprotective Roman and Seth with side orders of fussing, then this chapter is for you! Also, a tiny bit more Bo!**

 **SkittlezLvr79, A sting operation would be a good idea, except at this point Kevin hasn't broken the law. I mean, he broken all sorts of laws when it comes to acting crazy but he hasn't done anything legally wrong...** _ **yet**_ **(see what I did there?!)**

 **Mandy, Ah yes, super expensive coffee places. I'm just glad I don't like it (hot chocolate for me, all the way) I'm kind of down on the whole coffee revolution TBH. Does it show?! Smokin' Hot Aunt isn't really in this one at all, which is why I'm working on a short-story pretty much involving just her and Dean (for you and anyone else who misses her).**

 **Skovko, They totally should keep their eyes on him, that's a really good idea, they absolutely, completely** _ **should**_ **…but it isn't that easy with Dean (read on!)**

 **Ninjoy, Don't worry about being late, I'm on a posting mad spell lately so it's no wonder you're struggling to keep up! Glad I've got you thinking about what's going to happen. I love it when people get really involved! Yeah, poor old Kevin hasn't had it easy but that's no excuse (well, it's not a** _ **full**_ **excuse anyway). Not that he will always be so sad and fluffy. You have been warned!**

 **AngelOfDeathOfWrestling, You know by now I love when Seth and Roman worry and fuss around Dean like he's their kid! Lots of that in this chapter btw, for which you are welcome (I hope you like!) As for Kevin, yeah, bless, he** _ **is**_ **trying but he just can't help getting it hopelessly wrong!**

 **Mother-henning teammates coming right up!**

* * *

 **Mission Bell**

Roman drove a convoluted route to the warehouse, just to make sure they weren't being tailed, checking his rear view every five seconds and generally making Dean feel twitchy, not to mention slightly afraid,

"Will you fuckin' cut it out already?" he snapped in frustration as his bigger teammate slalomed and virtually ran a second red light, "You're drivin' me crazy with this whole fuckin' _Bullitt_ deal. Take it easy, alright _Steve McQueen_?"

From his place on the passenger seat, Seth shifted slightly, similarly scanning the passing streets and businesses as if constantly expecting Kevin to strike.

What was he, the _Terminator_ now?

Was he suddenly going to swing in on them _Arnie_ style?

"We're just taking extra precautions, alright man?"

"No shit," Dean grumbled, slinging across the leather as Roman took a corner like they were racing for the cup, "What the hell is with you two anyway? The guy bought me a ticket to a _baseball game_ , that's all. It's not like he got down on one knee and _proposed_."

Seth snorted loudly muttering something that sounded suspiciously along the lines of _not yet_. In response, Roman shot him a quick glare of warning and Seth huffed out a breath and turned back to the front.

Dean's ears pricked up instantly on hearing it and his blue eyes narrowed.

 _Oh no you don't._

"Okay, that's it, what the fuck is goin' on here?"

Roman's eyes flickered back at him _way_ too calm,

"What do you mean?"

"You two assholes are hidin' somethin' from me and doin' a pretty shitty job, I might add."

"Look, Dean – ,"

" _No_ ," he snapped, the combination of being lied to and _still_ feeling nauseous playing havoc with his mood, "Tell me the fuckin' truth already. Why were you guys at my place this mornin' and what did you come in shoutin' at me for?"

In the silence Seth growled ever so slightly and ran his hands almost absently through his hair. It was a sure sign that he was antsy about something, which – more often than not – was a very bad thing.

 _Fuck._

" _Fine_ , you wanna know what the two of us were doing?"

Dean spread his hands across his lap.

 _Well, duh._

"Seth – ," Roman started once more in warning, not for the first time being roundly ignored. The younger of their teammates was almost buzzing with nervous energy and there was only so long that he could keep that to himself,

"We went and paid Sami Zayn a visit."

The statement was met with a pause then a frown,

"Who the fuck is _Sami_ fuckin' _Zayn_? Am I even _meant_ to know who that is?"

Dodging a cyclist who was pedaling too slowly and just tucking back across their lines to avoid a bus, Roman rolled his eyes at the level of Seth's bluntness and attempted to be more helpful,

"He knew Kevin as a kid. We found him in the system – thought he might have answers – ,"

"Answers about what?"

Roman drew up short.

 _Good question._

How did they explain _that_ one to him? Or about the danger he was possibly facing at the hands of a man they barely even knew? Once again however, Seth's policy of brutal honesty came in sharp and right to the fore.

"About what Kevin wants from you man – you know – about what he might try to do."

There was a pause as Dean drank in the revelation and Roman chanced a quick glance up, studying Dean's face in the reflection of the rear view and watching the expressions sweep in and out. Luckily for all of them he didn't look worried – well, not entirely – he actually looked confused, not to mention pinch-faced with discomfort and also a little pale and green-gilled.

Then again he _had_ drunk a bucket load.

He and Seth had virtually _poured_ him into bed.

"Babe?" Roman intoned, drawing the blue eyes up although they didn't seem focussed, "You okay?"

"Guess that depends,"

"On what?"

"On what this _Zayn_ guy had to say to you."

Not for the first time since he'd clambered in behind them, Seth and Roman exchanged a quick look, silently agreeing to tell their teammate everything in a do or die style _rip the Band-Aid off_ approach. Roman did the honours, drawing a breath in and clearing his throat a little,

"Kevin kidnapped him."

"He what? _Kidnapped_?" Dean blinked in astonishment, "As in – ,"

"As in knocked him out with a brick and kept him tied in a basement for four fucking days."

Roman almost groaned at Seth's sharp assessment, although fortunately Dean seemed to take it in his stride. Well, as much as it was technically possible in the aftermath of finding out that his recently acquired stalker had previous for captivity and bodily harm.

"Why?"

"Why not?" Seth snorted, "Guy's a god damn _psycho_."

Dean rolled his eyes,

"Not what I meant asshole, I _meant_ why did he choose this Sami guy? Why even single him out in the first place? What in the hell is he supposed to have done?"

 _Oh._

Seth shifted round in his seat semi-awkwardly like a child needing the bathroom after a six hour trip. In mild unease, he looked towards Roman who once again sighed but reluctantly took the reins,

"Sami – sort of – _helped_ him out of a jam once."

"What kind of jam?"

Roman winced.

 _Damn._

"He – uh – he chased away some local children who were giving Kevin _kind of_ a rough time."

The silence hung across them bodily, clawing its way into every inch of the car. It was a long, heavy and oppressive sort of emptiness and so it almost made them jump when Dean cleared his throat,

"Wow," he snorted, but it wasn't in amusement, "Startin' to sound kinda familiar here, right?"

At the hint of nervousness he heard in the assessment, Roman's fingers quickly tightened round the wheel, the knowledge that his teammate – his best friend – felt vulnerable spurring him instantly into _older brother_ mode.

"Hey," he offered, watching Dean glance up, "That's where the similarities end, alright? We're not letting Kevin get anywhere near you. We'll keep you safe, just like we always do. Trust us?"

This time Dean's snort _was_ vague amusement and the warmth in his eyes made Roman smile back,

"Guess I'm gonna _have_ to, so you'd better not fuck this up for me."

"Don't worry babe, me and him have got your back."

They drove the rest of the way to the dockyards – where their base was located in a warehouse near the front – in what almost amounted to companionable silence, although each of them was locked in and wrestling with their thoughts. Dean in particular had plenty to consider although he struggled to comprehend what it all meant for him, not really being assisted by the hangover which continued its assault on his brain, guts and ears.

Kevin had already done this whole stalking deal?

Stalking and kidnapping?

 _Fuck._

That wasn't good.

But then Sami Zayn hadn't had over-protective partners who also functioned as family and shadowlike best friends. The three of them had been through far worse things.

A paunchy, childlike loner would be no match for them.

The gift that he had worryingly left on Dean's doormat jiggled along beside him on the seat and as Roman punched the code and drove into the warehouse, Dean picked it up and studied it again. The seats weren't good ones – they were right in the nosebleeds – but Seth had still been right about their cost. The world and his _wife_ wanted in on that match-up and tickets were like gold dust.

So where had he got _his_?

More importantly, how could he even afford them since it wasn't as if he looked particularly well employed. Then there was the whole big _knight in shining armour_ deal, which was clearly Kevin's catnip despite his being a grown ass man.

What had happened after Sami had been rescued?

Had Kevin been locked up?

What had gone on?

The questions swirled round in his head like fruit bats, circling and swooping too fast to make out. One would dive down at him but before he could grab it, another one would dart in and knock his brain back. He didn't know what to think – far less _feel_ – about it and so he resolved to simply sit in a brooding, drawn-browed silence that warned all comers against saying another word.

Once in the familiar surroundings of their hideout – a present from Steph to keep their cover intact, not much point in having a secret taskforce if the whole damn city knew where they worked – Dean blew out a breath and collapsed onto the sofa, dropping his head back and shutting his eyes. Seth grabbed a chair and hauled it across to him, taking a cautiously watchful seat before his friend. Roman meanwhile moved into the kitchen to switch on the swanky coffee machine and the churning and mechanisms and hiss of steaming water quickly filled in the distinct lack of sound. Not that their speech embargo would be a long one, since with Seth in their contingent it would soon be done.

"You feeling okay?"

Sure enough, there it was and in response Dean let out a gruff mumble,

" _Ugh_."

"That the drink talking or the crazy psycho stalker?"

Dean snorted roughly,

"Can't it be both?"

"Sure it can," Roman grinned back soothingly, passing across a steaming cupful of dark blend, "But given how fast you were putting it away last night? Yeah, I gonna go ahead and say it's the drink."

Dean's head dropped down heavily onto his collarbone to fight the ball of nausea fast climbing up his throat,

" _Don't_ say that word Roman – ,"

"What word is that man? Wait a minute, you talking about _drink_?"

It was intended as a ball-busting irritating _brother_ joke but as Dean abruptly bolted it fell pretty flat, Seth and Roman watching him slam down his coffee and then vault for the bathroom like he was trying out for the Olympic squad.

"Dean – ," Roman started in typical _Reigns worry_ , although it was swiftly cut short by the toilet door slamming shut,

"Definitely the drink then," Seth observed wryly, "That and your driving."

"My driving was fine."

Crossing back towards the kitchen, Roman pulled a bottle of water from the fridge, positioning himself alongside the bathroom and trying to ignore the retching sounds from inside.

"Come on man," Seth insisted, snorting, "I've been on _bumper car_ rides smoother than that."

"Then maybe you should have said something," Roman responded simply, shrugging a little, "I would've happily let you walk."

Luckily their bickering – and Seth's dramatic eye roll – were swiftly interrupted by tell-tale flushing sounds, joined seconds later by the patter of the faucet as Dean cleaned his hands and probably his mouth. When the door clicked open it revealed their ailing teammate, standing on the threshold looking pale and grim.

Trying to be helpful, Roman held out the bottle and Dean took it from him with his new favourite grunt,

" _Ugh_."

"Sorry about that babe," Roman offered guiltily, brushing a big paw through the unruly mop of curls,

"S'fine," Dean mumbled back, again shuffling coach-wards and then flopping down heavily like a life sized ragdoll. Roman took a seat on the arm of the chair beside him and then he and Seth sat waiting for Dean to make the first move.

Which – as expected – he did within the minute.

"So, what's the plan here?"

"What do _you_ want to do uce?"

"Apart from puke my guts up a bit more?"

Roman grinned,

"Apart from that."

"Guess you'd better tell me what you've found out about Kevin then. I mean, I figure if the guy's gonna drag me to his sex dungeon then I should probably know what positions he likes to use."

"Not funny Dean," Roman growled back at him, his face clouding over,

"It's a _little_ funny, right?"

But apparently the answer was in the realms of _not remotely_ and so Dean gave up trying to make the Big Man laugh, instead he turned his attentions towards the tablet that Seth spun towards him.

Kevin stared back.

Not the modern-day Kevin as he knew him – or didn't really know him, which was kind of the whole point – but a youthful, fresh-faced, un-bearded variation,

"Wow, how old is he there?"

"Nineteen,"

"That when he kidnapped that Zayn kid?"

"Uh huh."

Seth swiped his finger almost lazily across the flat screen and another photo flashed up of a kid. This one definitely wasn't Kevin Owens though and so Dean had to assume it was their victim, Sami Zayn. He was tall and lanky with a badly chopped bowl-cut and what was either a caterpillar or a poorly grown moustache crawling uncertainly across his upper lip.

"Oh yeah, this guy's a teenager _for sure_ , look at him, the kid's never gotten laid in his life."

"We weren't all brought up surrounded by hookers Dean," Seth threw back at him, biting down a smirk, "His father's a pastor, his mother's a teacher, these are nice people from a pretty nice place."

"Yeah," Dean snorted, " _Real_ nice place what with the psychopathic neighbour an' all."

Seth swiped the screen with his finger for a second time and a couple of unpleasant looking mugshots popped up. Not that mugshots were ever exactly _flattering_ but sometimes they could reveal a hell of a lot, like whether some rich girl had gotten drunk and done something stupid, whether someone was a tough guy or an idiot or worse. These two shots were of a husband-and-wife duo, but they were not a sweet old couple in the wrong place at the wrong time. These two were cold looking, hard-faced felons who'd never felt a shred of remorse in their lives.

"David and Judy Owens, Kevin's parents," Seth filled in for him, midway through the pensive pause, "Kept their son a virtual prisoner by all accounts, home-schooled, beaten, not allowed to go out. They moved a lot when he was younger – apparently to avoid getting found out. There's no birth certificate or records for Kevin until the day the cops found out where Sami was. In the police interview Kevin said his mother beat him and his mother told them that the father beat _her_. Whatever, I don't know, they're just a messed-up family."

Dean shrugged,

"Back in my old neighbourhood there were families just like this in every fuckin' buildin' on every fuckin' floor."

"Well then _this_ one managed to bust out of _your_ neighbourhood and make it to the suburbs where it didn't go down so well. People thought the Owens' were a nice-stand up family – she baked casseroles for people and helped out at the church."

"So? Hitler loved animals. He was still a dick, right?"

Seth rolled his eyes,

"Can we just focus please?"

"I _am_ ," Dean argued, rubbing a palm across his forehead where the pulsating headache refused to give up. He didn't register Roman moving towards the kitchen until he returned with an icepack,

"Try this uce."

"Thanks."

The biting iciness drove a spike of shock clean through him and sent a jolt of pain through his weary bones, but at the same time it also chased away the throbbing jackhammer and in the grand scheme of things, Dean considered that a win.

Death by frostbite it was.

"So _then_ what happened? I mean, they tracked down this Sami but what about Kevin? Did he not get locked away? He was nineteen. He was an adult. It wasn't like he was some minor."

Seth flipped through a couple more pictures, one of Sami being led out of the basement – wrapped in a blanket and looking completely dazed – and at least three of Kevin being hauled off by policeman with a red-cheeked and petulant look on his face, like he seriously couldn't comprehend their problem.

The final shot was of his parents, looking much the same way.

Fuck them.

Fuck the entire Owens family.

Seth shook his head,

"Maybe not in age, but mentally Kevin is essentially a child. No one's ever been able to work out why. There's a bunch of different diagnosis' for him, but none of them actually seem to agree."

"So he's just a fuckin' wacko then?"

Roman snorted gruffly,

"Seems to be as good a verdict as the rest."

"He's been in court ordered therapy since the trial," Seth offered across his teammates' wry asides, "But he switches to a new doctor every eighteen months or so because apparently he doesn't _get on_ _with them_. Other than that though, he's stayed out of trouble – I mean, at least the rest of his criminal record is clean. He takes odd jobs, helps out at homeless shelters and has his own apartment – ,"

Roman grunted,

"So, rehabilitated then?"

"His doctors seem to think so," Seth replied drolly, his tones expressing what he thought about _that_.

"Maybe he was," Dean retorted chirpily, shifting the ice pack as it started to warm, "But what can I say? M' fuckin' irresistible. Don't pretend the two of you don't know."

His second attempt at comedy drew a snort from the man in front of him and a sigh come weary eye-roll from their larger mother hen,

"Jesus uce – ,"

"Come on, you've missed this gallows humor."

"Wait, so this is _humor_?"

"Shut up man, you know it is."

"What do you want to do Dean?" Seth put in suddenly, his _secret police taskforce_ hat firmly in place, "Want us to go round and warn him off you?"

"What? Because that worked out so well _last_ time? You two just got him even more worked up."

Which was an understatement of epic proportions given what all three of them had seen go down. Kevin hadn't just disliked Seth and Roman, he had thought they were physically _hurting_ Dean. Even seeing Roman ruffling his hair afterwards had sent the paunchy loner into paroxysms of dissent. The chances of him reacting well – or otherwise – to them on his doorstep were a million to one.

"What're you thinking babe?" Roman frowned down at him, seeing the wheels turning in the hungover blue orbs,

"I don't know, I figured I would go over there and talk to him, give him the ticket back, you know, tell him to move on."

"On your own?" Seth snarled, moving swiftly to _defcon five_ _mode_ although Dean brushed off the jumpiness with a patented casual shrug,

"Sure, why not? I'm a grown ass man remember? Not only that but I've got a badge _and_ a gun."

Roman shook his head in response, not buying it and his combined best-friend-come-big-brother instincts began to run wild with horrible thoughts,

"No, alright? You're not doing it Dean. He kidnapped a guy and held him prisoner for _four days_ – ,"

"A kid, Roman, he kidnapped _a kid_."

"Forget it. I'm not letting him get anywhere near you. We'll find another way."

"Oh yeah?" Dean shot back, "What _other way_ do you got in mind Big Guy? Restraining order? A cease and desist? Because he doesn't seem like the kinda guy that would go in for that. Not real big on legal stuff I'm guessin' – figure a face-to-face is the best chance I got. Maybe catch him leavin' work – you know – _in public_. Narrow the odds of him pickin' up a brick."

Again he was making a vague attempt at humour and again the attempt fell pathetically flat. Roman seemed to almost be having a conniption, repeating the main problem,

"No, not on your own."

Fortunately before Dean could fire back hotly – and possibly end up saying something he would regret – the cell phone began to vibrate in his pocket and he dragged it loose grumbling,

"Treat me like a god damn child – yeah, what?"

The second part had been to whoever the hell was calling and at the sharpness of his tone there was a pause of apprehension followed by an oddly _peppy_ and cheerful sounding voice,

"Um, Detective Ambrose? Oh, I mean, _Jon_?"

Dean rolled his eyes,

"Bo, how's it goin' man?"

"Oh, pretty good thanks. I uh – I uh – I did what you said."

For a second what with the _Kevin thing_ and the persistent fucking hangover, Dean couldn't honestly remember _what_ he'd said and so he knitted his brows and frowned into the distance, willing his brain to work.

"You mean with the whole Gentleman Jack angle, right?"

"Yes sir," Bo chirped back sounding almost gleeful, "I told him all about you wanting to carry drugs and he asked _me_ to ask _you_ to a meeting."

It took a second to work out what he was saying, but Dean did it slowly,

"So, like an interview?"

Bo giggled,

"Right."

He could feel Seth and Roman both eyeing him steadily, silently asking what the hell was going on. He ignored them easily, rubbing at his brow line as the now warmed ice pack damply slithered off.

"When does he want to see me?"

"Straight away."

Dean blinked,

"What? _Now_?"

"Yes sir."

Letting out a sigh he clamped his hand across the speaker, turning to his teammates to attempt to fill them in. Seth beat him to it,

"The whole _Jon_ angle worked then?"

Dean nodded shortly,

"Looks like we're on."

In an instant Seth and Roman were moving, falling into well-rehearsed _action man_ mode. Roman set about disposing of their coffees and then getting their all-important gear out, while Seth prepared their technical equipment, chattering nonsensically as he moved around,

"I'll have to get the surveillance van packed up. We'll need earpieces for this one and you'll need to be miked up,"

The copper blonde nodded at him absently,

"Whatever you say man,"

"Uh, Detective – oh _darn it_ – I mean, Jon?"

"Don't sweat it Bo, we're comin' your way, meet you in the alley where we picked you up last time. Give us about an hour dude, okay? Hang tight and don't say a fuckin' word to anyone."

"But I – ,"

Dean cut in swiftly,

"Over and out."

By the time he'd hung up, Roman and Seth both had their backs to him. Moving on instinct and adrenaline alone. Dean's head was still thumping and there was still a touch of nausea, but the hot rush of action was beginning to beat it down.

This was why he'd gotten into the police force in the first place.

This was why he'd always loved The Shield.

Nothing compared to the pounding emotions and the anticipation of a good job done right. In fact the only thing – the _only thing_ – that risked tempering that, was the spectre of Kevin looming large overhead. Why was it such a bad idea to go and see him? Did Roman and Seth think he couldn't handle things by himself? Slapping the ice pack down onto the table he stopped at a sudden little jingling sound.

Roman's keys.

They were going to be travelling in their trusty old surveillance van so that Roman and Seth could monitor what was going down. That meant that Roman's SUV was going begging and it _also_ meant that Dean had a little time to spare.

He chanced a glance up.

Neither teammate was looking, so if he was clever then the day would bring not one but _two_ results. He seized them up off the table and stood up quietly, Seth still nattering like he was trying to break the speed of sound,

"Figure we can use the long-range earpieces this time, better to be safe than sorry, right man?"

"Yeah, sure."

Pulling the tablet closer, Dean scrolled through Kevin's details. The guy served lunch on the weekends at the ninth street shelter, like the charitable pillar of society he was.

 _Or not._

Rolling his wrist over, Dean checked the hour. It was almost twelve noon so Kevin would be on shift. Passing by his desk, Dean scribbled out a quick note using one of the bills that Stephanie had to sign for them and telling them to meet him in the alley at one. Then he zipped his jacket up and turned towards the basement, trying to sound innocent.

"I'll go warm up the van."

"Sure dude, good plan, we'll be right with you."

Only – as it turned out, as he had _known_ – they weren't.

It was another ten minutes before Roman noticed that his keys were gone and by that time Dean was already halfway there.

* * *

 **So, that whole keeping an eye on Dean thing is working out real well then? Next chapter, Dean confronts Kevin...**


	7. That's Enough For Me

**A day early here because, what the hell, it was ready! Dean and Kevin face to face in this one. How well do we think** _ **this**_ **meeting will go down?**

 **Skovko, Dean's jokes are the best, off-colour or not! Meanwhile...kitten! Too darn cute. I swear I could never work for an animal charity because my house would literally be bursting with pets. Winston Churchill once said that if you say 'good morning' to an animal you can't eat it and I'm basically the same but only with making eye contact and then wanting to take said animal home!**

 **Mandy, You know what? My cold sort of faded away without being anything. Was kind of prepared for it all to blow up. Can't be too mad about that thought I guess. As for Smokin' Hot Aunt (SHA) she will appear (sort of) very briefly later but mostly this one is all about the boys. Don't worry though, I grew up watching her too. Her screechy 00's voice still makes me laugh.**

 **Ninjoy, You would never expect Dean to take the path of least resistance though, right? Would be kind of dull if he liked to play things safe! But yeah, let's just say Seth and Roman are** _ **not**_ **happy. Definitely not bad you like Dean in trouble. As you can tell from my stories, I'm that way too!**

 **Irishfan62, Well, this story is already written and finished (just takes time to edit, that's why it doesn't all go up at once) so no Undertaker here BUT I have been toying with an idea where he might fit in this universe. Now I would just have to sit down and write it up! Clearly though, we're on the same wavelength!**

 **SkittlezLvr79, Bo? Screwing things up? That wouldn't happen...right?! Yep, Kevin got off pretty lightly the last time. Seems the big feller just doesn't learn!**

 **Guest, Glad you're enjoying it, plenty more action to come in the rest of it and plenty more Dean being hard-headed as well! He likes to keep Seth and Roman on their toes!**

* * *

 **That's Enough For Me.**

The ninth street shelter occupied a post-war building, which basically meant it was concrete and square. It was the sort of structure that city planners everywhere were falling over themselves to tear down, replacing them instead with weird 'modern' buildings which in another fifty years would look tacky as well.

Probably the only thing that had saved it's life so far was the fact that it would put the homeless back on the street. No one needed that kind of publicity although the threat of eviction clearly hung over their heads. There was a banner pinned up across the front when Dean got there, although a wet and windy winter and what was probably cheap materials meant that it had ripped and curled over at the top.

As it was, it dramatically read _save our ninth street_ before finishing off with _ive generously_.

Pulling up kerbside in front of the entrance, Dean sat back and settled down to wait, flipping the heater up and pointing it towards the driver's side as he tried to convince himself that both his hands were shaking through the mildness of the morning and not the task ahead.

At some point he'd tossed his phone down onto the passenger side and not for the first time, he heard it vibrate.

It had been doing that since pretty much halfway through his journey and aside for a few seconds when he'd gone under the overpass, it had been buzzing in a near continuous streak. It was actually starting to make him feel twitchy and so despite the fact that he knew he would get shit for it, he let out a growl-sigh and picked it up,

"What?"

" _Dean_ ," Seth breathed like he'd been convinced he was a dead man because _that_ was a deeply reassuring thought. In the background he heard the unmistakeable tones of Roman although he sounded kind of _pinched_ above an engine's frantic roar,

" _That him? He okay_?"

Dean rolled his eyes,

"Tell him I'm fine will ya? Also remind him to watch the fuckin' road. We've still got a slimy little drug dealer to go pick up, which _won't_ be goin' down if you two are in a ditch."

Seth ignored his light tones sharply, his own voice sounding stressed,

" _Where are you_?"

"I said I'm fine – ,"

" _Yeah and I asked you where you were_ – ,"

Roman cut in again,

" _In my car_."

"I think you both know where I am already, so how 'bout we cut out all this _honesty_ crap, huh? I told you I'd be there in time to get Gallagher and I will be, so the pair of you can just chill out."

" _What's he saying_?" Roman snapped in the background, skidding around something and then blasting the horn. From the sounds of it, Dean assumed that his best friend was gunning it and it surprised him that their surveillance van could even _move_ that fast.

" _He's telling us to chill out_."

" _Put him on speaker_."

" _I don't think_ – ,"

" _Put him on the god damn speaker_ _now_."

As Dean sat and listened there was a fumbling of buttons and then a heavy, huffy sigh that was probably from Seth. He'd always been good at the whole _melodrama_ bit and evidently his bigger, angrier teammate all but shouting at him was enough to set it off again,

" _Alright, alright – geez – it's on speaker, you happy now_?"

Evidently the answer was _no_ because seconds later Roman's voice rang out, sounding more pissed than Dean had heard in a while,

" _What the hell were you thinking Dean_?"

 _Uh oh_.

Dean.

Not babe, not uce.

Clearly he had severely messed up, not that he was about to acknowledge it and – frankly – he still didn't think he had, which was why his response was typically bullish and probably not precisely what Roman wanted to hear,

"I was _thinkin'_ that the sooner I can put this shit behind me, the sooner we can get back to puttin' the bad guys behind bars. On top of which the sooner you two morons can breathe again – I do this right and everyone wins,"

" _Apart from the bit where you're there_ _alone_ ," Seth chimed in hotly, " _Without backup_."

Roman grunted,

" _Hang tight, okay? We're coming to get you_."

Somewhere close by the shelter doors swung open and people started to casually filter out. It was kind of difficult to tell helpers from the needy but Dean kept his eyes peeled, scanning each and every face,

"No, I told you, I'll meet you at the hook-up – you guys get there and start to set shit up."

" _Dean_ – ," Roman started but his teammate wasn't listening because a familiarly chubby face had shuffled out of the door, head down and looking almost predictably awkward as he pulled up his hood to scurry off down the street.

"Shit," Dean barked, "That's him – _don't_ come here. Get to the rendezvous. I'll be fine."

Then he turned and grabbed up the ticket before practically flinging himself from the car. Both Roman and Seth were trying to shout down the phone at him, but he cut them off mid-bellow,

" _Dean_ , _wait_ – ,"

He'd pay for that.

For someone of his rounded physique, Kevin Owens moved pretty swiftly and so Dean was forced to revert to a jog-trot – by far the most sexy of all the _not quite running_ paces – in order not to lose him in amongst the crowd. He seemed to be heading for a parking lot down the street a ways and was just passing a deeply unappealing looking off-license when Dean reached out and grabbed his sleeve,

"Hey, wait – ,"

Kevin spun round in a panic of raw emotions, his hands flying up in an attempt to protect his face,

"P-please, just take it. I – I don't have anything."

Dean blinked across at him,

"Whoa man, ease up."

At once the piggy little eyes sprang open and the hunched-up shoulders slumped back down. For close to ten seconds, Kevin merely stared across at him, much like he'd experienced some natural phenomena or suddenly seen Christ's image in a tortilla bread.

" _D-Dean_?"

"Yeah, look – ,"

Suddenly Kevin was _clawing_ at him, surging across the small space in between them and seizing the detective's elbows in big chubby paws. Dean stepped back again in instant discomfort but the action only served to make Kevin move closer in. Still, as uncomfortable and awkward as the thing was, he wasn't doing anything, just kinda _holding_ him.

"You're okay," Kevin breathed, "How did you get away from them?"

It took Dean a second to work out who _them_ was,

"Seth and Roman?"

"I thought they'd taken you away somewhere – away from _me_. I should have known you'd make it back though, I – I just should have _known_."

He seemed to be about a second away from _hugging_ him and with that very much in mind, Dean decided it was time to shut that shit down. Shaking his arms he untangled Kevin's grip on him and took a deep breath,

"Hey man, so look – ,"

"Did they hurt you?"

"Huh?"

Kevin's hand was rising up towards Dean's cheekbone, as if attempting to ghost fingers soothingly across his face, Dean ducked away from the attempt caress with anger.

The guy was a _nut job_.

"If they hurt you, I swear to _god_ – ," Kevin stopped and blushed, "Excuse me, I – I shouldn't have said that, I – I apologize. Mama had rules about me taking the Good Lord's name. If I broke them, she did bad things – very _bad_ things."

As the conversation moved from bizarre to downright _fucked up_ and Kevin began to shuffle like a naughty scolded child, Dean shook his head to dislodge some of the _crazy_ and make a last ditch effort to put across what he'd come to say,

"I don't give a crap about what your mom said or did to you, that's not why I'm here."

Kevin blinked at him,

"It's not?"

"No man, I came to give you somethin',"

The bulky man lit up brightly,

"You – you bought something for _me_?"

Dean bit back a groan of dissention,

 _Oh for fuck sakes._

"Not like that man, alright? I'm sorry. I actually just came to give you this back."

With a stab of determination – _just get this over with_ – Dean thrust the baseball ticket out in his hand, waving it around in Kevin's general direction and praying to god the bigger man took the hint. Unfortunately however, he didn't appear to and instead simply stood casting down at the paper stub like Dean had just tried to serve up soup on a plate.

"What – what's this?"

"It's the ticket."

"But that's _your_ ticket."

Dean shook his head,

"Yeah, well I don't want it, so I'm givin' it back."

For a second Kevin simply continued to stare at it, before suddenly stepping backwards like the damn thing was a snake. His jowly head shook rapidly and his brow drew inwards as it slowly became apparent that the big man understood,

"I – I bought it for you so the two of us could go _together_ – ,"

"There's no _us_ Kevin, alright dude? No us."

"But you're my – ,"

"Nope," Dean quickly raised a hand up, stopping the familiar rhetoric mid-flow, "Just don't with that whole _best friend_ shit, alright? I haven't got time for that, okay man? Plus – you know – I just don't wanna hear so I'm gonna be real straight with you right now, so both of us know where we stand with this thing. I'm a cop, do you not get that? Sortin' shit out is my _livin'_. So those kids that were gettin' at you? _My_ job to stop 'em. I'd do that crap for anyone, it comes with the badge. But that doesn't mean I'm gonna be your _best friend_. You gotta cut this out man – you've got to _stop_."

It was a pretty lengthy and fiery missive but Dean wasn't sure it had actually worked. The ticket was still stretched out – unclaimed – towards Kevin and the bigger man was just _staring_ like he didn't know what had gone wrong.

He wasn't really _blinking_ either.

Which was always a sign of an untroubled mind.

When Kevin finally did speak it was hushed and almost _whispery_ and accompanied by a sad sorry shake of his head,

"I knew it," he murmured, "They've filled your head up."

Dean frowned back at him,

"They've _what_ now?"

"Your friends, they've told you things – told you that I'm no good for you, told you to stay away from me. They've poisoned your mind."

"No, you did that yourself."

To make his point clearer, Dean pointed across a finger, in a strange way hoping to antagonize the man. Someone screaming and hollering and beating him was far more in his ballpark than whatever _this_ was. Kevin was wide-eyed but eerily calm with it and it was almost as if the guy's sanity had clean got up and pelted off.

"You don't see it do you?"

Dean bristled angrily,

"Oh I see pretty well man – it's _you_ that's got the problem here. Where do you get off followin' me around after work, huh? Where do you get off fuckin' comin' to where I _live_? I'm warnin' you Owens, you stay the hell away from me, or I promise I'll bury your ass in the ground."

As far as warnings went, it was a pretty severe one but Kevin merely cocked his head like a dog.

"Don't worry Dean, it'll take time, but I'm gonna save you."

 _Jesus Christ._

That was it.

Dean was officially fucking done.

"Yeah?" he snorted, "Don't bother man, I'm outta here."

Then, as if to make it that much clearer, he took the ticket and ripped it in two, letting each segment flutter down onto the pavement and then saturate in a puddle.

 _Try selling that on now_.

It was petulant – sure – but then he'd _tried_ to be the bigger man only talking to Kevin rationally hadn't done squat. If the loner chose not to understand what he was saying, then the only thing left was to sound the warning bell and a visual representation of how Dean saw their friendship was a pretty good place to start.

Besides, _cruel to be kind_ and all that stuff.

Turning on his heel with a final look of warning, Dean attempted to stalk off down the street. To empower his exit, he placed a hand on his gun holster and let it rest there in the ultimate manly show-boating act.

It implied that he would shoot Kevin if he had to.

Although sadly his new best friend didn't quite get the hint.

"Whatever you do Dean, you'll never push me away from you."

Dean turned around again, spinning in his thick boots and offering up a death glare that made his _own_ damn head hurt.

"Last warnin' man, cut this crap out, y' hear? Or else I'll make sure that your ass sees a jail cell. Sure you'll find a best friend in there in _no time_ , course, it helps if you're okay with bein' on the bottom, 'cos a guy like you ain't _never_ gonna be on top."

Kevin continued to stare at him blankly, with a look that seemed to say _you're only hurting yourself_. It pissed Dean off even more than he had been, but he'd done all he could.

He was getting out of there.

Walking backwards with his arms spread wide open, he affected a cheerful and sort of shit-eating grin, chewing his gum round with a cavalier indifference as he chuckled across the space,

"Oh and enjoy the game, should be able to spread out good and wide now seein' as you've got a seat goin' spare."

Then Dean turned and stepped into the crowd again, allowing Kevin to disappear from his sight. A cold wind was blowing around down on street level and it whistled it way up through Dean's leather jacket folds.

That had by no means gone as expected.

In fact Dean didn't know if it had even gone _well_.

Kevin didn't seem to have been put off their friendship, instead he wanted to fucking _fix_ Dean now. But then again maybe it had just been bravado, talking himself up to avoid looking scared. Perhaps he would go home and reconsider his scant options?

With any luck, Dean would never have to see him again.

Rounding the corner to where Roman's car was parked up, Dean's cell phone started buzzing again. It was no great surprise to find out who was calling and Dean rolled his eyes wearily at the name on the screen.

 _Seth Cell._

He was just about to answer it in terse tones when he looked up and saw them standing by the car. The rusty surveillance van parked up behind it as the pair of them cast around and ran stressed hands through their hair.

In a weird little moment it hit Dean like a thunderbolt, or something less violent and a whole lot more warm. Like a hot water bottle or a scratchy electric blanket, both irritating and massively welcome all at once.

Despite the fact that he'd snuck out away from them and taken Roman's car and _then_ slammed down the phone, they'd come to get him without even thinking.

 _That_ was what best friends did.

Dean Ambrose had two.

"Hey – ,"

At the sound of his voice growling out down the street at them, his teammates froze and quickly looked up, each pair of eyes raking over their missing sibling and then softening slightly on seeing him unharmed.

"Jesus Dean," Seth barked down the sidewalk, making a woman with a small toddler turn and frown, not that the younger man was able to take much notice considering that he was pacing across the concrete like a dart, "You okay man?"

Dean nodded mildly,

"Still here, so I mean, I guess that's somethin', right?"

He was going again for that whole _laugh it off_ deal but was sort of cut off by Seth hugging his skull. As in drawing the scruffy curls down onto his breastbone and then wrapping both arms physically right around his head. Embedded in the shoulder of Seth's jacket made breathing difficult but it was also oddly comforting so in the end he didn't struggle all that much.

"Jesus," Seth repeated and Dean smiled wryly.

Kevin may not have liked using _our father_ style profanities but his teammate was attempting the world record in god-based swears. The second Dean was released, Roman swept right in after him, drawing him close and carding fingers through his hair,

"You ever do that again," he grumbled, the words reverberating deeply through his chest, "I swear to god I'll kill you myself."

Dean cleared his throat,

"Noted, here you go Big Guy, catch."

Tossing the keys up into the air between them, he then faked a movement like he was looking to take them back, Roman snatched them from the sky like an eagle and then tucked them way down into his back pocket while glaring at Dean as if to say _not again_.

"So?" Seth cut in, breaking through the moment with so much pent-up tension that he was beginning to fucking _bounce_ ,

"So what?"

"Did you see him? Come on man. _Kevin_ , did you see him yet?"

Dean sucked a breath in,

"Yeah, I did."

"You _did_?"

"That's what I said isn't it?"

Roman was more succinct, shutting his eyes briefly as if steeling himself for the answer before wetting his lips a little,

"You gonna tell us what went down?"

"Not a lot," Dean shrugged back casually, _too_ casually, "I gave him back the ticket and told him to get over me – was probably the easiest break-up I ever had."

"That it?" Roman pressed him, raising an eyebrow in that subtle way that told Dean he found his explanation bull, "He didn't get all, like, _pissed_ at you about it? Didn't shout and scream at you and start saying shit?"

At some point the bigger man had folded his arms pointedly, giving his best friend the whole reproachful father vibe. All that was missing was a long sorry lecture that involved the _I'm not mad I'm just disappointed_ line.

Not that he wasn't going to get that at some point anyway.

Which was rough.

He'd always hated that one.

In response, Dean shrugged but it came off all jerky, instantly stripping the coolness clean out and making it awkward and defensive and _obvious_ , plus a million other things all at fucking once,

"Well, I mean, he might'a said a _few_ things but it's just words, y' know? What harm can they do?"

"What words?"

"Huh?"

Roman didn't even blink at him,

"I _said_ what words?"

He wasn't giving up and as Seth stared on in silence from the sidelines – his stillness being pretty weird in itself – Dean felt the scrutiny start to weigh in on him and he set his brow stubbornly,

"I'll tell you later."

"Uce – ,"

"Listen Roman," Dean sighed back at him, throwing his hands open in a vague appeal for calm, "Don't we got a drug dealin' scumbag to bust here? Do we really gotta waste time doin' _this_ shit? I mean, we've spent long enough on that asshole already. Look, I said I'd tell you later and that's what I'm gonna do but right now I want to go do my damn job. That sound okay to anybody else?"

Fortunately the logic in his statement quickly won out – that and the fact they knew he wasn't backing down – and so after what felt like almost an hour but was probably only a second or so, Seth rolled his eyes and heaved a huffy breath at him,

"Fine man."

For added flourish, he threw his hands up in the air.

Roman – for his part – was far less swayed by it but he grudgingly fell into step beside his teammates as the threesome turned and headed back towards the van. He'd leave his car there until the drugs bust was over.

After all, he had the keys back so it wasn't going anywhere.

Beside him Dean seemed jokey and bubbly, which told Roman instantly that something was wrong. His best friend was trying to overcompensate for something and he was holding back from them on what had gone down.

 _Damn._

They would make him tell them eventually – _all_ of it – and he would do it as well since he rarely held back. Dean Ambrose was kind of like a dam with a growing crack in it.

If you left the trickle long enough, then the whole lot would pour through.

Letting out a sigh, Roman ruffled Dean's hair a second time, pawing it as his teammate hopped up inside the van. It was a grounding thing – the tousling – and it made him feel more settled.

Dean was with them.

Dean was safe.

It was fine.

What all three of them missed however, was the battered station wagon that crept out of the parking lot a couple of corners down. It crawled along the street until the surveillance van took off again and then sped up to follow at a surprisingly subtle pace.

Inside it, Kevin Owens gripped the steering wheel tightly, his body alive with purpose and the thrill of the chase.

"Don't worry Dean," he scowled, flipping on his blinker as the van took a left somewhere up ahead, "Your best friend is going to save you from the demons. Your true salvation is on its way."

* * *

 **So, who thought Dean was going to get grabbed in this chapter or have something else horrible happen to him? I mean,** _ **would**_ **I? Yes, yes you know I would. Be he's still safe for now.**

 **Next chapter...BO!**


	8. Coming Your Way

**So, no Shield times on TV until Roman is better but the guys are all here one day early for my next update, yay! Okay, now who is ready for more Bo? This is his finest hour. I hope you enjoy!**

 **Ninjoy, I don't know how I do it either, but I'm glad I make you feel the characters like you do. Hopefully this chapter won't be so thought provoking. It's kind of crazy, also, Bo!**

 **Mandy, My favourite screechy Steph quote is that whole 'I feel unbelieveeeeeeable' one. ECW Steph was just brilliant and the way Shane used to grin at her adoringly like her voice wasn't nails on a chalkboard at all. They were fantastic evil siblings back then!**

 **SkittlezLvr79, Your lack of faith in Bo is...um...just, you'll have to read and find out. As for the whole Kevin intersecting theory? You may or may not eventually be right! In the meanwhile though, enjoy some Bo Dallas, the gift that keeps on giving, am I right?!**

 **Skovko, Yeah, bless him, he's definitely freaked but he wouldn't be Dean if he didn't try to bullshit his way through it and pretend that everything was fine. Plus, Roman and Seth worry enough for all three of them!**

 **Guest, You wouldn't be the only one feeling bad for Kevin, so don't worry. He really is a sorry sort of feller, although I think it will be a bit more difficult to feel sorry for him later on (can you I tell I want you to keep on reading?!)**

 **Najeea, Aww, thanks for the compliment about my writing and I'm glad you can see it all unfolding as you read. That's really all I can ever ask for and as for what happens next? Well, here you go…**

 **AngelOfDeathOfWrestling, I like to think of that chapter as a fake-out but only a minute one, you know the drama is still to come. First I just needed a little bit more Bo time, because you can never have too much Bo in your life!**

* * *

 **Coming Your Way**

In undercover police situations, Dean worked with an alias to cover his back. He'd chopped and changed it over the years, moving from the sublime to the ridiculous as he went. Some of the names had been to suit the situation but others had been just to make himself laugh.

He'd been _Jake_ , _Chuck_ and even once a _Rocky_ although his memory failed him on what job _that_ was. He'd even been a _José_ on one memorable occasion with a convoluted backstory about an Hispanic adoptive mom. Whatever, they'd bought it, they'd got themselves the bad guys.

More recently however, he'd been going by Jon.

It was a classic sort of name, both low-key and believable but also popular enough to avoid suspicion amongst their perps. There were probably only three men called _Rocky_ in the entirety of Suplex City's grim sprawl, but there were more than a thousand and one men named Jonathan so in short it was perfect and Dean was ready to assume the role.

It was also an easy enough name to remember.

Well, for _most_ people.

"So, Detective – oh, _oopsie_ – I mean _Jon."_

Dean rolled his eyes.

"What's the problem Bo?"

"Can you – _um_ – run me through the plan again?"

"What, _now_?"

For Dean the reaction wasn't a misplaced one considering they'd been over the _plan_ six times. It wasn't like it was _Ocean's Eleven_ either, it was pretty fucking simple.

They just needed to get inside.

What also didn't help was the fact they were standing on the stoop of the apartment block where Gentleman Jack lived, not only that but Dean had pressed the buzzer so their time for discussing shit had pretty much run out.

" _Dean_?" Seth barked in his ear causing a heart attack, " _What's going on?"_

He groaned,

"Not _now_."

He was wired and miked, so Seth and Roman could hear everything and the pair of them freaking out in his earpiece wouldn't help.

Beside him Bo was blinking back cheerfully like the god damn puppy the idiot was. For someone who was about to saunter into a drug den yet had no idea what the hell he was going on, he was almost impossibly _peppy_ about it, like they were about to perform a cheer in front of their middle school.

Fortunately however, before he could respond to him – in a growl or otherwise – a voice ground out. It crackled over the apartment building's intercom and it killed their conversation and the tension stone dead.

"Yeah? Who are you? What d'ya want?"

It wasn't the clipped British tones of their dealer and so it was probably a lackey on sentry duty up above. Quickly Dean dug Bo in the stomach and gestured towards the metal box by the door.

"Go on man," he hissed at him tersely, "Tell 'em who you are and say you've brought Jon."

Bo set his lips and then nodded with purpose, although as he moved forward he stumbled on the steps, falling heavily into the doorway and then giggling a little in embarrassment.

 _Jesus Christ._

" _Really bad feeling about this,"_ Seth said flatly, " _This moron's going to get us all killed._ "

"Relax," Dean hissed, "'Sides, why're _you_ complainin'? You're in the van. It's _me_ he'll get killed."

Seth snorted roughly,

" _You're right, I'll calm down then_."

"Fucker."

" _Dean, for Christ sakes just be careful, alright_?"

Groping for the intercom, Bo's chubby fingers hit the buzzer and he stumbled a sentence out,

"Um, it's – it's Bo here, bright and early and reporting for duty, I've got Jon with me as well, the guy Gentleman Jack wanted to see?"

He sounded uncertain, which wasn't a great start although on the bright side at least he hadn't screwed that bit up and as the childlike moon face glanced around at him with hopefulness, Dean responded with a quick thumbs up,

"That'll do pig."

"But – but I'm a _person_."

Dean rolled his eyes,

"What? Go watch a film."

Again the gruff voice from the magic speaking wall box interrupted their nutso exchange, crackling out with a tone of deep grudging as he gave them access,

"Alright, come up."

Brushing past Bo as the double doors clicked at them, Dean put a hand out and pushed his way in, stepping inside a swanky looking lobby with a geometric pattern laid out in floor tiles. There was an actual chandelier suspended above them and smart and freshly painted tall white walls, even the _mailboxes_ were in some sort of gold effect and in general it put his apartment block to shame.

"Geez," Dean snorted, mostly to his teammates although Bo looked up at him spaniel-like as well, "Puttin' kids in comas pays pretty well, huh?"

" _Thinking about a career change uce_?"

"I don't know, more like retirement plans."

They took the elevator up to the penthouse which covered the entirety of the twenty-ninth floor. As they went, Dean went over the plan a _seventh_ time, to cover their bases and make sure Bo was still on board.

 _My name's Jon, remember?_

 _Don't say anything._

 _Stand there and smile._

 _Let me do the rest._

To all of the rules, Bo nodded back obediently although there was no way of telling if he'd actually understood.

" _Think he's okay_?" Seth asked uncertainly and he could hear Roman breathing down the microphone as well. It was kind of nice having them right there with him.

Well, _sort_ of with him.

At least they were close.

" _Babe_?" Roman pressed as doors pinged brightly open and in response Dean sighed and lowered his voice, offering out a final vague musing as he stepped into the hallway,

"Guess we're gonna find out."

The man that greeted them was built like a monolith, like Roman on steroids but even _bigger_ than that. He was bald on top but had a thin goatee and a glower that would have turned molten lava into ice. His towering stature even blocked out the sconces, throwing the corridor into an eerie half-light. Bo actually _squeaked_ and edged himself behind Dean's shoulder, stammering out a greeting,

"Oh, h-hey there Big Show."

 _Big Show_?

Dean frowned

What the fuck kinda name was _that_?

The giant's response was more of a grumble and accompanied by a sneer which spread below the frown. Clearly he didn't think much of Puppy Bo-Bo which was rich since he hardly looked like _Brain of the Year_ himself.

"So, this is the guy, huh?"

His eyes raked Dean over but unlike Bo he didn't even flinch. Instead his blue orbs drank the appraisal in smugly.

He'd met bad guys _far_ worse than this dick.

After several seconds more of the unblinking stare down, Big Show finally turned away with a grunt. He didn't reveal the results of his assessment – which was kind of a bummer since Dean would've liked to know – but he _did_ swing open the door to the penthouse and then stepped aside to let them both through.

"Look at that," Dean chirped for the benefit of his teammates but directing it at the giant with a shit-eating smirk, "Guess I made it past Master Blaster, next stop the _Thunderdome_ am I right?"

The inside of the apartment was much like the lobby with gleaming white surfaces and tall windows with city views. It was decorated in typical soulless high-flyer mode with the same black leather furniture, chrome accessories and lack of love.

No way would Dean have swapped it for his own place, it was too hard and impersonal.

There wasn't enough _her_.

Flanking the doorway were two more bulky rent-a-goons, _Frick_ and _Frack_ as they would henceforth be known. They were both overweight but might once have been muscular and both were clearly struggling to maintain their hair. In that respect they were similar to the Big Show, not least in that they all seemed to have small well-trimmed beards. Maybe male pattern baldness came as standard when working as a cold-hearted, paunchy drugs mule? Not that this theory explained Bo Dallas.

Then again, there wasn't an awful lot that _did_.

"Ah, you must be Bo's friend Jon? Good evening to you."

He looked up as a voice echoed out across the room at him, clipped and well-spoken but oddly cordial as well. It belonged to a short and impossibly thin man in a herringbone jacket with an actual _pocket square._ His hair was thick and lush in strawberry blonde tones and –

Dean blinked.

Was that a twirled _moustache_ as well?

What was this guy? He looked like a _Victorian_ and he sort of fucking spoke like one as well. Dean half expected Sherlock Holmes to bust in on them, yelling to Watson that the game was _afoot._

Dean liked reading _,_ he always had done really.

He sometimes liked to surprise people with that.

Instead of lead with his love of literature however, Dean simply stepped forward and held out his hand, shrugging and rubbing his palm on his jean fronts in order to affect that sense of _devil may care_.

"Hey, how's it goin' man? Nice place you got here."

Jack looked across at the fingers disparagingly and then took another cool sip of his wine. He was sitting stretched out on an executive lounger, his suede brogues propped up and waving in the air. He studied Dean for about ten seconds and then cocked his head a little to the side. His eyes were bright and instantly curious but Dean wasn't sure if the appraisal was good or bad.

"You're not exactly what I was expecting,"

Dean snorted wryly,

"Same here dude."

" _Hey_ ," he heard Seth snort in the earpiece, " _Take it easy man_."

Fortunately Jack laughed,

"Yes, well, I do like to keep a certain sense of style and eloquence that the good people of this city don't much seem to bother with."

"Speak for yourself," Dean smirked, plucking his leather collar up, "For your information I just showered last week."

It was a slightly risky strategy he had decided to go with, but having seen Jack's lackeys the approach seemed to fit. The debonair drugs baron was clearly a man of intellect surrounded by an ocean of big dumb fucks. He already had his army of _yes men_ what he needed was someone who could challenge his biting wit.

For a moment the wispy Englishman simply blinked back at him – hard sharp eyes neither angry nor amused – then suddenly the thin lips broke out into something that was mid-way between admiration and a pleasantly surprised smile.

"You're quick."

Dean shrugged,

"Gotta be out on these streets."

Jack's gaze drifted over to where poor old Bo stood, blinking at them wide-eyed like he didn't speak the language or else _did_ but had briefly forgotten how it went.

"Yes," he deadpanned, with a sneer, "Evidently."

It made Dean's hackles rise.

 _Don't be mean to Bo._

Luckily rather than _say_ that however Dean bit it down and merely offered another shrug, trying to style it out like he was totally cool and casual and didn't give a shit if the guy liked him or not.

"So, I hear you might have some work for me man?"

"Possibly, but all that depends."

"Depends on what?"

"On whether or not I think I can trust you."

Dean kept his gaze steady,

"Kind of a two way street don't you think? How do _I_ know that I can trust _you_? I mean, I'm takin' a pretty big risk fallin' in with you guys. I need to know that you're not gonna screw things up for me."

"What did our friend Bo tell you about us?"

Dean shrugged,

"Not a lot but, you know, _enough_."

Jack swirled the claret around in his wine glass, bringing the liquid perilously close to the rim. The effect it had was almost mesmeric and Dean had to fight to draw his attentions back,

"Enough that you would be willing to – how do I put this – look beyond some of the more unfortunate consequences of the particular item we choose to sell?"

" _Unfortunate consequences_?" Seth huffed across the earpiece, " _There's a kid in a coma because of this asshole and that's all he's got to say about it?"_

Yep.

Fighting down his own displeasure – which was bubbling near the surface much like Seth's – Dean threw an airy hand up and snorted,

"Shit happens right? They knew the risks."

Apparently that was the answer Jack was looking for because the Englishman offered up a pleased yet toothy grin.

"You know what Jon? I actually rather like you. I wasn't expecting to when Bo said he had a friend. To be honest I was expecting another dimwit like he is, but you're sharp. I like that. I think there's room for you here."

Somewhere near the door _Frick_ or _Frack_ grumbled in what was obvious displeasure at the new golden child. It made Dean bite back a smirk of satisfaction and he took it as a sign that he was definitely _in_.

"Great, so, when do I start? You got some sorta _sales board_ I need to move to the top of – employee of the month? That kinda thing? I'll tell ya man, got some _real_ good contacts down in The Battleground that'd love some 'a this stuff."

Jack smiled thinly,

"Well, let's not get _too_ excited shall we? We'll be starting you off slowly to begin with. Give you a couple of wraps and see how you go. Don't want to run before we can walk now. Oh, and I'll need your driver's licence by the way."

Dean blinked,

"What?"

He was genuinely surprised.

"Just my little way of ensuring your loyalty and it allows me to perform a few background checks. You'd be surprised how easy it is to frame someone by leaving personal information at the scene of a crime. Now, if _I_ were a policeman I would consider that suspicious, I mean, what kind of criminal leaves their details just lying on the _floor_? But law enforcement here don't seem to be so choosy, which means I get to – ,"

"Clamp my balls in a vice?"

Jack's smile quirked up again in amusement and he coughed a little then steadied it with some wine,

"Well, not _quite_ the terminology I would have gone with, but now that you mention it? Yes. So Jon, be a good boy and hand it across now."

From over on his lounger Jack extended a graceful hand out, impatiently flapping his fingers for the loot. Behind him, Dean could hear _Frick_ or _Frack_ moving and so he quickly pulled out his wallet while holding up one hand,

"Alright, fine, knock yourself out man."

No sooner was it out of its compartment than a hot chubby hand snatched the licence away, trundling it over to where Jack was reclining and handing it across with a Neanderthal-like grunt.

"Here sir."

"Wonderful, thank you Brodus."

Dean blinked.

 _Brodus?_

Yeah, he was sticking with _Frick_ and _Frack_.

The licence he had given to Jack was an old one, from the first job they'd done as a trio since Seth and Roman had got back. It was a job that had seen him almost lose his kidneys not to mention – and perhaps more importantly – his _life_ but it had also furnished him with a so called _Seth Special_. A fake I.D. that looked totally legitimate to even the most shrewd and mistrustful of eyes.

"Jon Moxley," Jack read, squinting down at the type face and then up again, "Unusual last name."

"It's English."

"Is it now?"

A beat passed between them and Dean briefly wondered if the other man was attempting to catch him out. Fortunately however, his blank expression worked wonders because eventually Jack nodded and tucked the licence away.

"Well then Jon, it seems we have a deal then. Welcome old chap, good to have you aboard."

Reaching out his hand again, he let Dean take it, the grip good and strong for someone so small. Dean had been momentarily worried he would break it, but in the end the Englishman almost hurt _him_. By the time the shake relaxed, Dean's fingers were throbbing, but he was in and on target so the discomfort worth while.

Somewhere behind them _Frick_ or _Frack_ was moving and the one that wasn't Brodus turned and lumbered across the room. It reminded Dean of some old grainy footage of a cruise liner being launched into the sea, at once both impressive and hopelessly ungainly although the big man seemed determined whatever his role was.

In the corner of the room there was a safe beside a bureau and the second he reached it, _Frick_ or _Frack_ hunkered down, spinning the dial through a sequence of numbers and then swinging the door open with another grudging grunt. Clearly along with a fast receding hairline, another job description was to be virtually mute. Sadly his bulk effectively blocked out the contents, but when he turned round there was a bag in his hand. It was wrapped in clear plastic which meant when Dean looked closer, he could make out a small amount of neat looking wraps.

 _Bingo._

"That's all your givin' me?" he asked in mock outrage in an audible signal to Roman and Seth. The second they knew that drugs were on the property, his teammates had full licence to come barrelling in and judging from the response that buzzed back at him down the earpiece, the pair of them were already moving fast.

" _Got ya man, hold on, we're coming_."

" _Gonna take us time to get up there. See if you can stall them uce_."

Stall them.

Sure.

How about a bedtime story?

Although as it turned out it wouldn't have mattered _what_ he did because no sooner had the package been handed towards him, than Bo – fucking _Bo_ – had blown the whole thing wide, stepping forward like an overzealous student and grabbing up the drugs with an ear to ear grin.

"Wait Detective Ambrose, I'll get that for you. These are bad, not nice, very _illegal_ things."

The whole room tensed like someone had flipped a rocker switch and four sets of eyes stared over at Dean. Nobody spoke, except for Seth – _loudly_ – as he screamed a single curse word right into his teammate's ear,

" _Shit_."

" _Did he just –_ ," Roman started in amazement, " _Did he just say what I think he did_?"

Uh huh.

From where he had formerly been slumped on the lounger, Gentleman Jack straightened up a little bit, a quizzical expression drawing his neat brows in as his eyes flashed dangerously,

"What did you say?"

It took Bo perhaps another couple of seconds before he realized the gravity of his _epic_ mistake, his small little orbs suddenly widening in horror and the damn grin sliding straight off his puppy face.

"Oh – _uh_ – Jon, I m-meant to call you Jon because – well, because _th-that's_ your name."

"You called him _detective_."

Dean shrugged,

"So? He's an idiot."

"Evidently you gentlemen think the same about me."

Clearly Jack was no longer buying what they were selling and as the zinging tension ramped up another notch, Dean let out a long-suffering sigh. _Frick_ and _Frack_ had lumbered in closer and their fingers were starting to twitch by their belts. The policeman in Dean knew at once that they were packing and was frantically trying to fix himself an _out_.

To his left there was a large executive style table designed for conferences and topped with hard wood. Dean figured vaguely that it would probably withstand gunfire and so shifted towards it by inching across his toes.

"Look fellers," he started, full of false cheeriness, "Can't we all just _talk_ about this?"

 _Frick_ – or was it _Frack_ – reached swiftly for his weapon and from that point it became pretty damn apparent that the collective answer to his question was a _no_.

 _Crap._

Reaching over and grabbing Bo's collar, Dean moved on instinct and adrenaline alone, propelling them both from their vulnerable position and flipping the table over with his remaining free hand. It hit the tiled floor with an almighty clatter, shedding some wine glasses and an ornamental plant but none of that mattered as they hit the ground behind it, just in time to hear the first gunshot ring out.

Hear and _feel_ it in Dean's case.

It barely missed him.

In fact it whistled by a hair's breadth from his ear.

" _Big Show!_ " Jack all-but screeched from behind his bodyguards, as _Frack_ pulled his gun out and gleefully joined in, hammering another bullet into the dark hardwood like the pair of them could bust clean through the damn thing, "Get me out of here _._ "

" _Dean, you okay?_ " Roman issued frantically as the door to the apartment almost blew off its hinges and the man mountain Big Show blundered in to sweep Jack up.

As in _literally_.

He _literally_ swept him up like a baby and carried him out of there tucked under one arm.

Grumbling at the continued hail of gunfire, Dean shifted round and pulled free his own piece, checking the chamber and then slamming it shut again as Bo whimpered beside him.

Roman tried again,

" _Dean_?"

"We're okay."

" _Hold tight, we're coming up there to get you, leaving the surveillance truck now, alright uce? Won't be in contact with you once we hit the ground though – ,"_

"No," Dean hissed, spinning on his haunches and peering over the barricade to fire off a shot, "Jack and Master Blaster are headin' out your way, get him, I'll handle Frick and Frack."

" _Frick and who now_?"

In the melee he'd forgotten that he hadn't remembered to pass his personalized code-names on. Another bullet ricocheted in off the table top and he ducked down and cursed,

"I'm fine, _get Jack_."

With he and Bo pinned up against the back wall and _Frick_ and _Frack_ essentially sealing off the door, Dean's range of options were more than a little limited and the younger man praying did _not_ fucking help.

"Our Father who art in heaven – ,"

" _Bo_ ," he snapped, a little harder than he'd meant to and in such sharp tones the guy actually jumped, "You got a weapon? Please tell me you're carryin'?"

"No, that's illegal."

Dean blinked,

"You sell _drugs_."

Bo shook his head,

"But that's non-violent, I could never directly harm someone. I'm sorry detective – oh, uh _– Jon_."

Dean rolled his eyes.

Oh _now_ he remembered.

A bullet bounced off the wall and both of them ducked.

"Give it up, cop," _Frick_ or _Frack_ bellowed and Dean almost _huh'd_ with surprise.

They talked.

Or – more to the point – one of the goons did, since the other stayed silent and –

Where the hell had _he_ gone?

Across the room the blasting gunfire continued but something was different this time around. Dean's keen ears picked it up in an instant and he froze as he studied it.

It was only one gun.

More than that it was also keeping rhythm, with a fairly constant firing pattern of _two-one-two-one_. Where _Goon Number Two_ had gone was something of an issue but at the very least Dean could knock one of the skittles down and readying himself, he squatted low behind the barricade, balancing on his tiptoes and waiting to pop up.

"Detective – uh – _Jon_? What are you doing?"

" _Sssh_ Bo," Dean hissed, "I'm gettin' us out."

Sure enough the _crack-crack_ of two gunshots rang out at them and the second it did, Dean was up on his feet, extending his arms out over the table and firing off a round before _Frick_ or _Frack_ could drop down. The bullet hit the bodyguard square in the forehead and snapped the big lug back about a foot. For Dean it was pretty much the shot he had hoped for, but a bellow to his side quickly stripped away his grin.

" _Albert_ – ,"

Albert?

Again, _Frick_ or _Frack_ was better, not that Dean had much time to debate it as a body ploughed into him much like a wrecking ball and propelled the gun clean out of his hand.

"Fuck – ,"

Having dispensed with his own automatic, Big Ol' Brodus had come in hard, clearly deciding that shooting was too good for him and instead intent on physically pummelling the guy who'd recently iced his best pal. The first fist hit Dean straight across the solar plexus and expelled the air clean out of his lungs, the second was to the face along the ridge of his cheekbone and the third was vicious and straight to the guts.

" _Oof_ – ,"

Dean's hand came up helplessly to shield his cranium but that left the rest of him fully exposed, pinned beneath Brodus' insanely meaty thigh muscles and powerless to fight back under the onslaught of blows.

Looking around, Dean's eyes scanned the floor tiles, trying to figure out where his gun had gone. If he could grab it or – even better – fire a round off, his troubles would be over.

No such luck.

His weapon was easily a good seven feet away, close enough to see but not close _enough_ to touch. In short he was totally, _badly_ in trouble and as his ribs took a pounding, his mind started to fog up.

It was probably why the eruption of a clanging noise caught him with such a jerk of surprise, the sound booming out and then continuing to judder like someone had rung an ornamental gong.

In response to it the punches stopped in an instant although Brodus continued to straddle Dean's waist. For a second the paunchy gangster simply stared at him, then suddenly his eyes rolled back and he flopped heavily away.

As Dean blinked, the limits of his slightly addled vision were replaced by the wide-eyed figure of Bo, wielding a very expensive looking frying pan in a move that had managed to shock even himself,

"Oh my – ,"

Dean coughed roughly, rolling himself over and flinging out an arm to grope for his gun.

" _Ugh_."

Outside and down below back at street level, another gun battle was newly starting up and Dean's stomach lurched – a little from the punches – as he realized that the fresh bullets were meant for Roman and Seth.

 _Shit._

Evidently Gentleman Jack and the Big Show had run into their little welcoming committee and although Dean knew that his teammates could handle it, his need to be there and doing it _with_ them was unmistakeable and pretty innate.

"Bo," he ground out, pushing himself vertical and then wrapping a tentative arm around his waist, "Stay here and make sure that this idiot doesn't move, alright? Take his gun – you don't have to fire it – but if he wakes up you're gonna wanna point it at him."

The younger man blinked,

"Wait, wh-where are you going?"

"I need to go and back my team up."

"But – ,"

Dean growled,

"Stay here, you hear me Dallas? Before you end up gettin' yourself killed."

Then – with a limp – he stepped over Albert's body and headed for the stairs, back out into the fight.

* * *

 **Okay, yes, so Bo screwed things up a bit but he was only trying to help so don't be too mad!**

 **Next chapter, it all goes to hell in a handcart and Dean's bad day gets far,** _ **far**_ **worse...**


	9. Blood On The Floor

**So, herein lies danger, you have been warned!**

 **Skovko, I'm not sure at what point Bo became such a little poochie but I actually love it, I'm not going to lie! As for your hunch about Kevin? Not saying and you can't make me (stamps foot like a child).**

 **SkittlezLvr79, Totally not bad that you're laughing** _ **at all**_ **. That chapter was definitely written with humour in mind (apart from poor old Albert getting shot, sorry A-Train, nothing personal man!) Yeah, maybe not so much laughing in this chapter but it's all about variety right...right?!**

 **Mandy, Poor Dean's poor levels get even higher in this chapter. Brace yourself! The match was crazy but I still miss all three of them. Seems like everyone is coming down with things right now! *Fashions medieval nosegay to wear out in public to ward off all germs* Keep away!**

 **Irishfan62, Haha, I know. I just wanted two burly guys and was watching old Shield videos and voila! There was Tons of Funk! Happy accident I'd say. Besides, those two don't get nearly enough love from the universe. As for Kevin? Well...**

 **AngelOfDeathOfWrestling, I know, but poor old Bo. Trying to remember another name is difficult for him. He tried so hard as well! At the end of the day though, it's just not his thing.**

 **As ever, enjoy!**

* * *

 **Blood On The Floor**

The pristine lobby he and Bo had trodden across earlier was decidedly _less_ -pristine as Dean sprinted back through, with the chandelier having lost several of its fittings and the double glass doors having been utterly shot through.

A grey-haired older lady was peeping out of her front door and Dean whipped out his badge and waved it at her,

"Stay indoors, get into a back room and try to stay low."

Instead of thank him the woman merely scowled at him, as if she didn't appreciate being told what to do. In that regard she reminded him starkly of _Delilah_ and he briefly wondered if maybe every building in the city – through some archaic law – had to have a spinster lodged on the ground floor.

Fortunately under the continued crack of gunfire, she finally saw sense and banged shut the door, leaving Dean to carry on stalking purposefully across the floor tiles before stopping on the threshold and ducking through the broken glass. On the plus side it meant there was no need to buzz out, although on the _downside_ it put him into the middle of the bullet storm. Keeping low and tight to the building, he started to cautiously inch down the steps, looking for his teammates – or more specifically Jack or Big Show – to give him an idea of a direction in which to point.

Their surveillance truck lay abandoned over in the corner with the back doors wide open, so Seth and Roman weren't in there. He also knew that because he couldn't hear them jabbering, since the receiver and microphone were stationed in the van. They weren't in the lobby – surely he would have seen them – which meant _logically speaking_ they were someone out there, likely midway between the building and the kerbside and hunkered down behind some poor sap's parked car.

"Dean, get down," he heard Seth bellow and dropped flat against the steps as a gunshot rang out, the bullet cracking off the entranceway behind him and showering him with a small cloud of dust.

Looking up he spotted his teammates and – sure enough – they were huddled down low, sheltering across the street behind a pickup, whose windows had been blown out and which was sounding its alarm. Clearly the cacophony of gunfire wasn't loud enough. What they _really_ needed was a damn car horn as well.

As both men looked over – to check he wasn't injured beyond having been half beaten to a pulp – Dean frowned back in confusion and spread his arms out, sending them a silent message,

 _Where?_

In response to the query Seth held up two fingers and pointed to a spot off down the street a way.

 _Two cars down, to your right._

Dean stuck a thumb up, his own reply clear.

 _Gotcha man, thanks._

It was a situation they had encountered several times now, that being _holed up_ by the enemy thing. Sometimes it was a sign that their team was on the backfoot, but luckily in this case it was the other way around.

"Give it up Gallagher," Seth yelled across the distance, "Backup's coming, there's nowhere to run."

In response to the request, the man mountain Big Show popped up briefly to fire off another round. It _thunked_ into the Taurus alongside the other holes but fortunately left Seth and Roman unharmed. In the background Dean could already hear the wail of sirens as multiple households surrounding their gun battle called the police to raise the alarm, although thankfully the street itself was deserted –

Or at least he _thought_ it was.

"Dean," Roman bellowed, his voice full of purpose and the younger man raised his head above the brickwork and then cursed as a bullet snapped close to his face again,

" _Fuck_."

Roman was pointing further along the sidewalk, across to the right on Dean's side of the road. Shuffling carefully to the far side of the apartment stoop, Dean glanced tentatively out.

Oh shit.

A young couple – teenagers, on a first date more than likely – were hunkering down and shaking for all they were worth. The guy was trying to shelter the girl bravely but they were still in the middle and pretty horribly exposed. Glancing back at Roman from over the masonry, Dean watched his teammate wave his left hand, he waggled two fingers and then made a chopping motion that the copper blonde detective understood at once.

 _I'll cover you._

Dean nodded.

 _Sure thing uce, I'm ready._

Then Roman's fingers moved,

 _Three, two, one –_

At the exact same moment that he hit the silent _zero_ , Dean exploded out from the steps, keeping himself low as he pelted along the sidewalk and accompanied by a ferocious hail of gunfire laid down as a distraction by Roman and Seth.

Judging from the way Jack and Big Show replied to it, their little ruse had done the trick and so Dean was able to reach the cowering lovebirds, pull out his police badge and usher them off,

"You two, with me."

They followed him instinctively, hand-in-hand and terrified as Dean sort of _shepherded_ them across the street. There was an alley on the other side, well out of the hail of bullets and he shunted them into it, still barking orders out.

"Hey, stay low, get yourselves behind some cover. Do _not_ come out under _any_ freakin' circumstances, until a police officer says you can move. You understand?"

The boy nodded haltingly,

"Y-yeah, w-we get it."

"Good," Dean replied briskly, "Get outta here, _go_."

They skittered off into the darkness like rabbits, spooked and heading for the nearest safe hole. The guy was still holding the girl's hand protectively and Dean grinned at them.

 _Extra brownie points for that one._

That lucky kid was more than likely going to score.

Back on the street the gunfire was still crackling and Dean took a breath and poked his head out. There was a telephone exchange box about twenty feet away from him that would give him a good vantage point. Jack and Show were still focused on his teammates and so speed was of the essence.

He needed to move.

He was actually in the process of doing so – having taken the first steps – when a figure slid into view.

 _Huh?_

Dean ground instantly to a confusing sort of semi-halt before narrowing his brows tightly at the wide-eyed face he saw,

" _Kevin_?"

"Dean, I need you to come with me."

That was how he started his sentence.

No preamble, no explanation, no mention of the fact that he was standing on the sidewalk while a fucking drugs-based _gun battle_ raged all around. In fact he seemed almost oblivious to all the chaos, as if this was the sort of thing he saw all the time.

"Kevin," Dean breathed out, feeling pretty side-swiped, "What the fuck you doin' out here?"

"I – I've come to get you," Kevin replied evenly, "Quick, come with me."

He reached for Dean's hand.

"What?"

"I need to get you away from here. _Help_ you. Remove the demons from your head."

"The fuck?"

Things – which had been pretty nutso beforehand – were suddenly getting weird pretty fast. Was he seriously talking about _demonic_ _possession_? Surely that hadn't been a thing since, like, 1835?

"Come with me Dean,"

"Get outta here Kevin, it isn't safe."

"But – ,"

"Get outta here, _now_."

The final command had been issued as a bellow and in response to the volume, Kevin shrank back. What it had _also_ managed to do however – just his fucking luck – was catch Jack's attentions too and seeing his chance to pick off a policeman, the Englishman switched his aim, squared up and took a shot.

" _Dean_ – ,"

Roman's shout clued him into the danger a fraction of a second before it arrived and acting on instinct, Dean threw himself forwards, launching at Kevin and knocking them both to one side.

 _Bang._

The impact of body-on-larger-body contact, instantly sent a stab of pain through Dean's ribs, already bruised from having earlier been pummelled and reacting unhappily at being called up again. Fortunately however – for a very fleeting moment – that was the only discomfort he felt. Then suddenly hot agony bloomed across shoulder and he hit the ground heavily with a half-choked out yelp,

" _Argh_ – ,"

Big frantic hands came down around him instantly, fussing and worrying as the voice broke above,

"Dean? Oh no. _Please_ don't let this happen. I can't lose you – I couldn't lose you as well."

Apparently Kevin was having a breakdown and nor were his concerns the only ones there were. Somewhere above the shrill whistling in his eardrums Dean could hear Seth and Roman screaming as well, obviously having seen him face planting on the concrete and royally freaking out about the fact he was down.

"Dean?"

"Uce?"

"God _damn_ it, _say_ something."

The sound of Seth's taut and fractured sounding missive – not to mention Roman's horrified tones – forced Dean to push himself hesitantly vertical, his whole head spinning and his world upside down.

What had just happened?

Oh right, he'd been clipped.

Probably a good idea to see how that was.

Kevin's hands were hovering all around him but he grunted and grumpily fended them off, bumping his spine against something in the process, that offered stability and took his full weight.

"What – ,"

Either by design or else amazing fortune – not that there was too much of _that_ going round – Dean's spear tackle had thrown them right at the exchange box which was giving them the cover he had hoped it would provide. It meant that he didn't have to worry about more bullets besides the one he feared was buried in his arm and so as Kevin near hyper-ventilated next to him, he peeled his shirt down and hesitantly took a look.

 _Huh._

The wound was bloody but not as bad as expected although it already stung like a son of a bitch. The bullet had clipped him across the top of his shoulder and gouged out a long, deep and steadily oozing wound. But what it _hadn't_ done was hit any bones or major arteries and so beyond the pooling redness, his prognosis was good.

"Dean? Can you hear me?"

Roman was still calling and so to save him from worry, Dean winced and cleared his throat,

"M'okay."

His answer didn't sound all that convincing – pained and shaken even to his own ears – but it was enough to prove that he was still alive and kicking and that was all his teammates wanted to hear. Well, nearly all, there were a few added details which Roman wasted no time in establishing across the gulf,

"Did you get hit?"

"Yeah."

"How bad is it?"

"Gonna need stitches,"

"Stay there uce, we'll get you out."

The fact that Kevin wasn't even _mentioned_ alerted Dean to the fact they didn't know he was there. They had probably seen Dean dive for someone in the gunfire and assumed it was just another panicked passer-by. It was probably just as well they didn't know it was his stalker. Roman in particular would have totally lost his shit.

Somewhere in the background the sirens were getting louder and it wouldn't be long before they were fully backed up. It was probably going to take a fair bit of explaining, but a quick call to Stephanie – their erstwhile leader and City Police Chief Commissioner as well – usually smoothed out all ruffled feathers.

You couldn't make an omelette without breaking a few heads – uh – eggs.

He _definitely_ meant eggs.

As something warm and wet began to snake down his bicep, Dean winced and moved his other hand up, struggling to shrug himself out of his jacket and find something he might be able to use as a plug. He jumped a little when another hand fell on him and the jolt made him hiss as it pulled the wound,

" _Fuck_."

Kevin blinked back at him, his hairy rounded features a picture of guiltiness and worry besides. He took Dean's cuff and helped the policeman shuffle out of it then let out a gasp as the bloody shoulder fell into sight,

"Oh my goodness – ,"

"Looks worse than it is."

"You need help."

"M' fine Kevin."

"No – no, I _need_ to help you. After all, y-you saved my life."

"A decision which I'm startin' to regret alright? Look man, we can worry about my shoulder later, but right now we're in a firefight, so just hand me my gun."

At some point in the madness Dean had put down his firearm or else thrown it to the ground when he'd been fucking _shot_. As it was the sidearm was lying by Kevin's ankles and Dean wiggled his hand at it to get his point across.

 _Gun._

 _Now please._

In response Kevin looked at it oddly for a second, the small narrow eyes tracking back up to Dean. Something was turning – a wheel or a boulder – and the look was unsettling and suddenly ice cold.

"I'm – I'm sorry,"

"Sorry for what?" Dean echoed, watching suspiciously as Kevin picked up the gun. His hand was still outstretched, expecting the firearm and there was a thin trail of blood slowly dripping off his thumb. Kevin's eyes slid between it and the weapon and then he looked up sadly,

"That it has to be this way."

"What way?" Dean was in the middle of asking, then he heard the hammer click and his body froze.

 _Oh crap_.

Kevin was fucking holding him at gunpoint, intense and unblinking.

 _Triple, quadruple crap._

"You need to come with me Dean."

"Kevin, listen – ,"

"No Dean, no time for listening, you need to _come with me_."

The last part of the sentence was more of a holler and accompanied by a fine shower of spit. It peppered Kevin's beard and matched the spark that lit his eyes up, making them burn like a thick propane fire. Clearly something had snapped in the bulky man but that didn't help Dean.

He was completely fucking trapped.

"Kevin – ," he tried again, swallowing a nauseous lump down and pressing his free hand hard against the wound. It hurt like hell and he briefly screwed his face up but the steady loss of blood was getting hard to ignore, "I don't know what you're doin', but I kinda need a hand here. Think you can put that down and maybe gimme a lil' help?"

It was a pretty calm question – much calmer than he was feeling – but his gentle tones didn't have the hoped for effect. Kevin's face flickered but he shook his head remorsefully, the gun's aim never wavering once,

"I am going to help you Dean, I'm going to make you better."

"Kevin – ,"

"But to do that, like I said, you need to come with me."

Struggling to bite down his fast growing anger – he had been fucking _shot_ for Christ sakes – Dean licked his lips and attempted some optimism,

"So you're gonna take me to a hospital, right?"

"I'm going to make sure you're safe and well."

It wasn't exactly a _comforting_ answer but neither – for that matter – was it batshit insane. The firefight was still raging and his teammates were still pinned down, he was unarmed and bleeding heavily.

What choice did he have?

"If I trust you," he forced out gruffly, "You've gotta promise you won't let me down. I'm puttin' my life in your hands here Kevin, so you gotta be on the level with me, you understand?"

The paunchy man simply continued his staring,

"Put your faith in me Dean, you know you can."

 _God damn it._

The whole fucking thing was totally unsettling, but he was starting to feel woozy from shock and the pain. Even he – who hated visiting hospital at the best of times – knew that was where he needed to go and if Kevin was offering, well, _insisting_ on driving him then there was his solution.

Plus – you know – the whole _gun_ thing.

"You gotta a car nearby?"

Kevin nodded eagerly and if it weren't for the nine millimetre aimed at his collarbone, Dean would have almost thought he looked like a child,

"Yep, uh huh, it's just round the corner. Think you can make it?"

Dean blinked,

"That depends."

"On what?"

"On whether you're takin' me or forcin' me. Come on Kevin, why don't you put the gun down?"

A flicker of hesitance flashed underneath the facial hair and then mercifully the other man lowered his arm, taking Dean's firearm and tucking it into his waistband before holding his hands up.

 _There, all done._

It wasn't quite as good as having it back _physically_ , but at least it was no longer pointed at his head and given what else he was trying to contend with, Dean was prepared to take it as a win.

Getting to his feet was tough for two reasons, not least of all the bullets zinging overhead. But it was fucking also _painful_ and standing upright was dizzying, so much so he nearly sat straight back down.

"Whoa," Kevin murmured, sweeping alongside him and levering Dean's good arm over his neck, "Don't you worry now, your best buddy's got you."

Dean grit his teeth but didn't say a word.

Keeping low, they worked their way along the parked cars, moving away from the scene of the fight. Dean could hear the sirens come roaring up behind them and it made him untense to know the others had extra troops.

In fact, Seth and Roman were the only niggling factors.

He needed to tell them what was happening.

But how?

He figured a call from the car would likely temper them – naturally leaving the Kevin part out – and so was rummaging in his pocket as the old station wagon loomed up, pulling loose his cell phone with a blood slickened hand. As Kevin fumbled to unlock the driver's side door – which evidently needed opening before any of the others would – Dean slowly punched in Roman's well-known number, trying to keep drops of plasma off the screen.

"There."

Kevin's bark coincided with a heavy _thunk_ of bolt locks as he hastily scrambled out and swept Dean back up, shepherding him down into the battered old vehicle and then slamming the door shut like he was picking up his date.

 _Christ._

Inside, the wagon smelt musty and _rusted_ , although given its age it seemed to be doing pretty well. That was _except_ for the unhappy creaking noise the entire chassis made as Kevin dropped down behind the wheel. Then again he was a bulky customer and being in such proximity to him made Dean start to feel uneasy again.

Glancing down quickly, he continued with his phone call, hitting dial before holding it up against his ear. It rang for all of about two or three seconds before his best friend picked up,

"Dean?"

"Roman," he exhaled in deeply relieved tones, "Listen uce, I'm – ,"

That was all she wrote.

Before Dean could blink, Kevin's hand had sailed over, ripping the cell out of Dean's bloodied fingers and glaring with fury as he forcefully switched it off.

" _No_."

"Hey – ," Dean frowned, "What the hell are you doin' man? Give me back my god damn phone."

He reached out towards it – forgetting his injury – then stopped as his shoulder protested like hell. His face screwed up and his eyes pinched together but he could hear Kevin moving and he heard the click as well.

 _Oh shit._

Sure enough, when his blue orbs flew open, they were met with the barrel of his own service gun, pointed at him once more with purpose as Kevin glared across at him and held something up.

"No," he repeated, "It's just you and me now. Don't make this difficult. I need you to put these on."

As his gaze drifted down, Dean took in the item waving in the breeze from Kevin's right hand. He was holding a pair of unforgiving metal handcuffs and on seeing them, Dean's stomach rolled over in a circle before stopping briefly and then doing it again.

"Kevin – ," he swallowed, "What's goin' on here? We're goin' to the hospital, right? I'm not gonna need these there."

The bulky man simply stared back at him unflinchingly and it was almost _worse_ that he seemed so fucking calm.

"We're not going to the hospital."

"Hey man, you promised – ,"

"I _promised_ that I would make you better and I will. Trust me Dean, I know what I'm doing. This whole thing is for your own good."

For a second there was a tense little standoff, with Dean stubbornly refusing to do what he was told. He was stupid – _stupid_ , a total fucking idiot – to have even remotely believed a word Kevin had said. Of _course_ he had never been going to take him to the hospital, the guy was obsessed with him, he wasn't about to give that up.

Glancing through the windshield, he looked for Seth or Roman.

They were right _there_ somewhere.

Surely they knew he'd gone by now?

Beside him, Kevin jingled the handcuffs and then grew bored and flung them onto Dean's lap. The gun stayed trained on him, too far away to knock it, besides which his nearest arm had already been fucked.

"Put them on Dean and loop them through the handle first. I don't want you bailing out on me midway down the road."

It was strange how cold and in charge Kevin sounded now, swinging back and forwards between _asshole_ and _child_. What he _wasn't_ however, was remotely fucking normal and so Dean stared back at him,

"Kevin, listen – ,"

"Do it now."

Ten years in policing had taught Dean many lessons, one of which was accurately reading people's tones. Kevin – at least _this_ version – wasn't pulling any punches.

He was on the edge and serious.

He wouldn't hesitate to shoot.

With his heart in his throat and a curse on his lips that he fought down with every bit of willpower he possessed, Dean reluctantly did as instructed and tethered his wrists to the handle with a click. The second the restraints were in place he let his eyes shut, knowing he had basically gifted himself up.

There was no other option.

He was trapped and he _knew_ that.

But that didn't make it easier.

In fact it made it worse.

In response, Kevin launched across the space in between them and tested the give of the metal for himself. The bastard actually _hummed_ in appreciation but still managed to tighten the cuffs up a few more clicks.

" _Fuck_."

The tension put a whole lot of pressure on Dean's shoulder and his entire face screwed up as he wrestled with the pain. He was barely even aware of Kevin's rummaging on the back seat until something musty smelling was swept past his head.

"Easy Dean, I'm going to slow the bleeding."

"This is insane, I need a hospital, _now_."

Instead of that however – or a reply for that matter – Kevin simply slapped a piece of folded cloth down, lying it over the steadily bleeding bullet gouge and then pulling a roll of duct tape out.

"Whoa – ,"

For a horrible nauseous second, Dean thought he was being silenced and tried to turn his head in an attempt to protect his mouth, but the tape was merely pressed down across his shoulder and stuck haphazardly to keep the chamois in place.

"There see?" Kevin smiled much like a child again, "Already better, don't you think?"

The pain was searing, burning and torturing and so Dean shook his head,

"No Kevin, no it's not. You need to let me go to a hospital. I mean it man, let me outta these and let me get the _fuck out_."

But as his anger slowly built, Dean's hopes became diminished as Kevin turned the key and sparked the engine back to life. In the rearview he could see the bright blue flashes of the police force, but they were there for Jack.

No one knew about him.

Tugging on the handcuffs only further hurt his shoulder and proved pretty pointless.

He wasn't going anywhere.

Signalling right, Kevin pulled off from the sidewalk, feeding unassumingly back out onto the street. Where they were going was something only he knew and his intense sounding missive didn't do much to help.

"Don't worry Dean," he frowned across the steering wheel, almost like he was lost to another world, "Kevin is going to take _real_ good care of you. I'll save you and bring you back where you belong."

* * *

 **Um, yep, so it finally happened, I've teased it before, but this time Kevin's got Dean. How are Seth and Roman going to react to it? You'll have to stop by when I post the next chapter to find out *spoiler* they don't respond well!**


	10. Looking For Somebody

**Okay, who ordered a semi frantic Roman and Seth with a side of over protectiveness? Yep. Your order's up! Oooh, also, two more cameos because why the hell not?!**

 **Ninjoy, Yay! I love my Bo too, he's just such a cute little thing. No idea how that happened, I just started typing and lo and behold that's how it panned out! I figured that Dean needed a bit of bad-assery before Kevin grabbed him. Also, it's not wrong that you hate Kevin now, was kind of hoping that eventually you might. He's a sorry guy but what can I say? He's crossed the line from here on out.**

 **Mandy, Smokin' Hot Aunt coming right up (in a tiny, tiny dose, a cameo if you will). In other news I've written the Steph oneshot you've requested and I'm pretty pleased with how it turned out. I'll post that up sometime after this one's all done, so look out for it! Now, as requested, here is your next chapter…**

 **SkittlezLvr79, You know I never keep you waiting for too long! Is it mean that I kind of like the idea of you on tenterhooks though? Means I'm doing things right (I hope!) Yeah, Seth and Roman not happy at all. Kinda love this chapter for that reason alone though. Any reason to write about those two worried then I'm there with bells on!**

 **Skovko, Yeah, no bricks this time, Kevin couldn't find any in the middle of the gunfight obviously. But yeah, that's shoulder's going to make things real hard for our boy (because, you know, it's all light and fluffy and rainbows and kittens for him at the moment!)**

 **Guest, Aww thank you, that's so lovely of you to say. I love the boys brotherhood too, it's my weakness and since there isn't enough of it on TV anymore (though fingers crossed for when Roman gets back) I just up and write it myself! Super glad you can see it all playing out in your mind. That's definitely what I aim for each time I start typing! Enjoy this next chapter!**

 **AngelOfDeathOfWrestling, Don't be angry at Dean, he's injured. He wasn't thinking straight, it happens sometimes! But yes, on the plus side now there's lots of drama and overprotective brother feels, so every cloud, right?**

 **Ohana1337, *Hugs Bo for you* there you go! As for keeping you on the edge of your seat? I refuse to apologise because that's what I want. You know I'm mean with my whumping and cliffhangers! It's far too late to change me now!**

 **Here you go!**

* * *

 **Looking For Somebody**

"What do you mean you _can't find him_?" Seth repeated, staring back at his frown-faced teammate and not liking the worry he saw in the eyes.

"I _mean_ he isn't there," Roman offered flatly, "The spot we last saw him? He straight up isn't there."

"Did he go back to the truck?"

"Already checked that."

"Took himself to hospital?"

Roman frowned,

"In what?"

It was fast turning into the question of the moment – the essential _vanishing_ of their fallen best friend. Where the hell could he have got to so quickly? More to the point, why hadn't he told them? Well, okay, so there _had_ been the phone call but it had lasted for a second and then been cut off. Since then his cell had been reverting to voicemail so they hadn't been able to speak to him again. In short, the whole thing was a riddle in a mystery and neither of them liked it.

Where the hell was Dean?

Ever since the cops had turned up in a _cavalcade_ some ten minutes earlier, it had all been a blur. Gentleman Jack and Big Show had still been firing, but the influx of uniforms had made their nerves show. As _Master Blaster_ – as Dean had dubbed him – had turned to fire on the incoming troops, his position had shifted and given Seth an opening, which he had taken with a quick bullet straight to the chest. It hadn't exactly been anywhere vital – if they got him into surgery he'd probably live – but it had certainly been enough to put him out of action and with his bodyguard down, Gentleman Jack had surrendered too. In the space of fifteen minutes, the gang – and his empire – had been totally destroyed.

In hindsight it had been a good night's work.

In fact the _only_ thing hampering the usual wash of victory was being a man down and not knowing where he was. That and the issue of convincing the reinforcements that they weren't some bizarre homegrown _vigilante_ force. Roman's shield had helped – as had a call to Stephanie – but several old timers were still glaring across suspiciously, unblinking and just itching to draw out their guns.

Fuck that though.

Dean was still missing.

Missing and _wounded_.

"Show me the spot."

For some strange reason Seth needed to see it, needed to study the last place their friend had been. He wasn't sure what he expected to find there but Roman didn't question him and instead simply backed up, leading the way in silence along the sidewalk and across to the exchange box.

Yep, sure enough.

No Dean.

In the tense and baffled silence, Roman dropped onto his haunches, studying the casing before pointing to a spot. There was something smeared across the hinged door at shoulder-height and only just visible in the dusky evening light.

Despite the encroaching darkness though, Seth still knew it instantly.

He'd seen enough to last a lifetime.

It was a streak of blood.

 _Shit._

"You think that's his?"

Roman sighed,

"Figure it _has_ to be."

"That's – there's a lot of it."

"Yeah, that's what I thought."

Seth glanced up and gazed along the sidewalk, scanning every shape for a familiar looking form, he even scanned the lumpy bags of refuse, wondering if one of them was Dean curled in a ball. None of them were, which made it _more_ confusing and Seth couldn't help but vocalize the question that both men were trying their hardest not to ask,

"So then where the hell is he?"

Roman blinked,

"I don't know man, but if you've got any guesses, I'd like to hear them about now."

Guesses.

 _Sure_.

But that was kind of Seth's specialty and pretty much had been from day one within their group. Dean had sometimes liked to call him _The Architect_ because his brain was always working and figuring out plans, always pulling something together and plotting and detailing.

He'd missed that nickname.

But the point was, if _he_ couldn't think of any answers – figure out how, why and when things had gone wrong – then who the fuck _would_ and how would they ever find him?

Seth cleared his throat,

"What did he say in the call again?"

"Nothing," Roman offered, rubbing his face wearily, his bristles making a pleasing _scratching_ sound, "He just said _listen_ and then the damn phone died – or was grabbed or smashed or something."

Seth blinked back.

He knew that look and he knew what it meant.

"You think he's in trouble don't you?"

Roman nodded,

"Yes."

Given the circumstances and growing weight of evidence, it seemed a reasonable assumption to make, but Seth still wasn't quite prepared to give into it.

He _couldn't_.

He couldn't cope with having lost Dean.

"What about upstairs? He could've gone to check on Bo, right? We know he's pretty fond of the kid."

Roman pulled a face but it wasn't a _bad_ suggestion and quite frankly was the only one they still had left to probe, which was why he followed as Seth stalked towards the lobby, walking in double speed and cutting a path through the sea of cops. The unimpressed old timers were still glaring out at them, but Roman ignored them.

They had bigger fish to fry.

As it turned out – on reaching the entrance steps – Bo was actually in process of coming out, creeping on his tiptoes as he crunched across the glass shards and then beaming like a child as he saw them.

"Hey guys."

He was acting like he'd stumbled across two buddies in line for concessions at the damn state fair. All he was missing was a handful of candy and a shiny red balloon.

Seth wasted little time,

"Have you seen Dean?"

Bo blinked back bewilderedly,

"No, well – I mean – not since he shot that guy. You know, I've never seen a person get shot before. Lots of blood – like – a _whole_ mess of blood. The other one's okay, Detective Ambrose had me watch over him. I kept him from causing you anymore trouble, you two fellers can bet on that."

" _Bo_ – ," Seth hissed, cutting through the diatribe with a barely contained snap, " _Is he upstairs_?"

"Uh, he's not."

Instantly Seth spun away from the entrance, cursing in frustration,

"God _damn_ it."

"Hey, you think he got picked up?"

Wordlessly Seth quickly glanced across at Roman, studying the desperation on the bigger man's face. At this point it was obvious they were clutching at straws between them, but honestly what other choice did they have left? It was certainly possible that somewhere in the melee Dean had been arrested and transferred to a patrol car. Of course, in all likelihood they would have fucking _heard_ him but it was worth checking out to leave no stone unturned.

"Um – ," Bo started, as they moved to step away from him, "Detective Ambrose, he's okay, right?"

Seth and Roman exchanged a glance silently, before Roman nodded.

"He's going to be just fine."

Seth wasn't sure who needed the most convincing but managed a semi-positive, reinforcing background nod.

"Oh good, I – I like him."

Roman snorted wryly,

"So do we kid, so do we."

The policeman who seemed to be in charge of the operation was a short-statured, blonde-haired man with impressive muscle mass. His face was drawn with lines of experience and framed around a thin straw-coloured moustache. His name – his badge said – was Sergeant Chris Jericho and he watched them approach with a sardonically raised brow,

"Yeah, what do you want?"

Seth sighed,

"We're missing someone."

"Excuse me?"

"Our teammate," Roman offered back, "Dean."

Seth took a breath,

"Look man, we need to find him, he took a fucking _bullet_ out there saving someone's life. Now he's gone and we want to know where."

"He's bleeding pretty heavily."

Jericho blinked. For a second or two it wasn't clear what he was thinking, then he turned and barked out a command, startling a fresh-faced and cheerful looking officer who almost launched clean into the air,

"Bayley."

"Yes sir?"

"Go count up the bodies, including all the arrested men. There should be – ,"

He glanced back and Seth replied quickly, timing it with Jericho's impatient finger click,

"Four."

"Four," he echoed and Bayley again nodded, eager to assist her chief,

"Yes sir."

Bustling off – so purposefully her hair swung – Jericho turned back to Roman and Seth. At no point during their brief encounter had he addressed the two men as if they were on the same team. In fact, he seemed almost _bored_ by their presence, as his very next statement made abundantly clear.

"So _you're_ the Commissioner's pet project huh? Aren't drug deals a little below your pay-grade?"

"We do what's needed," Roman intoned back at him, as formally as if he were quoting the handbook that The Shield had never and _would_ never have. Jericho snorted and then smiled wryly, his expression suggestive,

"Oh sure, I _bet_ you do."

"Meaning?"

"Easy, don't go getting all excited, wouldn't want to upset the McMahons' favourite boys."

Fortunately at that moment Bayley bounded back again, complete with figures which she quickly rattled off,

"We've got all four men sir, one who surrendered, one who was concussed and is being arrested now, one deceased upstairs in the apartment and the big one who took the chest shot and is currently being transferred to the ER."

It wasn't the answer that Seth had been wanting and he growled in discontent,

"So where the hell did he go?"

"This friend of yours prone to wandering off places?"

Roman ignored the sergeant's semi-amused smile, gritting his teeth as he shook his head warningly, danger flashing in his usually soft eyes,

"No, he's not."

"Then I don't know what to tell you guys honestly, except maybe you should get him some sort of _tracking chip_ , wire him up to the mains or something so that way he can't go – ,"

He stopped at Seth's gasp, watching as the younger man whacked at his teammate and hissed in astonishment,

"He's got the mike on – the mike and the earpiece. Dean's still wearing them."

Roman spun away towards the van,

"Come on."

As they strode off Sergeant Jericho called after them, deeply sarcastic,

"Sure, happy to help. Come back anytime and see us, you hear now? Just make sure you pick a day that I'm not around."

Roman frowned,

"The guy's an asshole."

Seth _hummed_ back but didn't reply, too hyped up to even _think_ about speaking as he streaked across the asphalt – physically overtaking him – before flinging the van doors open and vaulting inside. In less than a second he'd got himself settled and was throwing switches on their equipment to fire it back into life. As Roman clambered in, Seth pulled out the headphones, disconnecting them from the speakers with an audible _thunking_ noise. Instantly a voice filled the empty space around them and they would have known it anywhere.

The voice belonged to Dean.

" _This is crazy, fuckin' lemme outta here_."

Roman and Seth exchanged a look.

Hearing him created a whole slew of emotions, the foremost of which was total relief, but there was also surprise and a _lot_ of raw worry since Dean's voice sounded panicky, pained and oddly coarse.

"Jesus," Seth exhaled, slumping back slightly, "He's alive."

Roman frowned,

"But he isn't alone. Who's he talking to? Where the hell is he? You heard what he said – _let me out_."

They had answered one question – Dean was up and conscious – but there was still so much more they simply didn't know. As Seth leant in towards the microphone however and made a move to push the button down, another voice cut in across the speakers and made him pause,

" _Stop struggling Dean, I don't want you to pull your shoulder and make it hurt even worse than it is. It would be better for you if you tried to stay still, alright? We've still got kind of a long way to go_."

The words were chilling and spoken pretty evenly which made Seth frown,

"Wait, who the hell is _that_?"

A ball of nausea rose in Roman's stomach and steadily began to creep up into his throat. There was a feeling – an uneasiness, a sneaking suspicion – settling over him and although he looked at Seth, he didn't say a word.

As it turned out, he didn't really need to.

Dean confirmed their worst fears himself.

" _Listen, I need a hospital, okay man? This dirty rag is not gonna help. You need to uncuff me and take me to a doctor. You hear me Kevin_?"

Seth gaped,

"Oh _fuck_. Is he being serious? Kevin? The stalker? _That's_ who's got him?"

Roman's eyes slid shut.

He had known it, somehow he had just fucking known it.

Of _course_ it was Owens.

God damn it all.

" _No Dean_ ," Kevin replied, unnervingly steadily, " _I told you already, it's you and me now_."

" _Screw you_ ," Dean spat, " _Let me the fuck outta here_."

His shout was accompanied by a rattling of metal that could only be the aforementioned cuffs and at the sound of their teammate fast losing his patience, Seth pressed the button and leant forward,

"Dean, calm down."

In response to his voice there was a hitch in Dean's breathing which took the form of a sharp stunned gasp. It was tiny but it meant that their brother could hear them – not to mention that he too had forgotten he was miked – and knowing it, Roman leant over Seth's shoulder and chimed in with some steadying words of his own,

"It's okay uce. We're here, we got you. We're going to get you out, okay?"

In reply to the missive Dean merely sat silently, the only sound on the speakers being his quick and shaky breaths. Clearly he was frightened and most likely in agony and that awful knowledge put his teammates on edge. The fact that they could talk to him and hear him would be _some_ comfort but more than likely not quite enough. Plus there was the fact that his stalker-come-kidnapper was sitting alongside him.

No wonder he sounded tense.

"Hey," Seth cooed, trying hard to seem even instead of turning and putting his fist through the wall, "Can you tell us where you are, or what the hell happened? Anything we can work with here?"

Again there was silence and they could almost _hear_ him thinking.

Unfortunately however, Kevin got their first, hopelessly oblivious to their audio-based audience and attempting to appease the fraught and captive man.

" _It's going to be okay Dean, I'm going to save you. I'll take the demons out of your head_."

" _Kevin, look, I don't have any demons. I don't need savin'_ – ,"

" _You just don't_ think _you do_."

Seth and Roman exchanged a look of worry, the composure of the sentence chilling them both.

Kevin Owens was not just a misunderstood loner who'd made a bad choice once when he was a kid, the guy was a bonefide, card-carrying sociopath, a dangerous whack job who had kidnapped their brother and was driving him off – _injured_ – to god only knew where.

They were so pent-up with frustration and anxiety that they almost missed Dean's semi-cautious reply, treading the line between speaking to his captor and giving his teammates the information they didn't have,

" _Listen to me Kevin, you can't just hold a guy at gunpoint and not expect him to get heated, okay? There's a fuckin' trench dug outta my shoulder and all you've done is tape it up. Can you at least tell me where the fuck it is we're goin'? I mean, it looks we're leavin' the east side 'a town. You got some place in the hills? You live out there? I need somethin' man, I'm kinda freakin' out about now."_

Seth grinned broadly,

"Nice man, keep it coming."

It was certainly a start on compiling the information they would need if they were going to successfully track them down. Not only did they have an update on Dean's shoulder injury, but they knew he was at gunpoint and that the pair were leaving town.

Instantly Roman was clambering through the front seats, slotting himself behind the wheel with a bump, there was a jingling of keys and then the roar of the engine and Seth turned back,

"You hear that man, huh? Me and the big guy are coming after you. Try and keep him calm, alright?"

There was a snort from Dean, which could have been a wry one, or was possibly an inhalation of pain, but regardless he managed a little more information.

The policeman in him would never say die.

" _Is this car even gonna make where we're goin'? I mean what is this thing? It's gotta be forty years old. I haven't seen a_ _Volaré station wagon in forever. Didn't think people even had 'em anymore._ "

"Doing great man, I'm running cars now."

While he'd been listening Seth had also been typing, tapping the keyboard and scanning the results. It didn't take long to find what he was looking for but the details were surprising.

Owens, David.

That was Kevin's father but the car was registered to an address on the rural outskirts of the city, not to the east but directly north of the sprawl. In the opposite direction to where they were heading, so wherever they were going it wasn't Kevin's parent's house.

 _Huh._

Almost as if reading Seth's thoughts from a distance – or in answer to Dean's comment – Kevin suddenly cleared his throat. The sound of him talking quickly managed to get Seth's back up and it killed his increasingly positive mood.

" _This was Papa's car, he wouldn't like me driving it_."

Dean sounded weary,

" _Uh huh, why not_?"

" _He said I was an unholy demon – that my father was an incubus and I was devil spawn. He wouldn't let me touch anything that belonged to him. He beat me. But none of that bad stuff matters now._ "

For a moment there was an unsettled silence, which Dean broke in unsurprisingly hesitant tones,

" _Wow_."

" _That's why I can see the demon in your head Dean. You're unholy, just like I was. That's how I know I need to save you from it. I can help you get it out._ "

" _Kevin for Christ sakes_ – ,"

Seth hit the button,

"Whoa, easy man. Be careful, alright? Don't say anything that's going to make him lose it. You've got to stay cool until we get there to back you up."

It was a pretty tall order given everything that had happened, not to mention what was possibly still coming up. Dean had been shot and then forcibly taken captive by a man whose mental state was deteriorating fast. Meanwhile there was Seth sitting safe in the surveillance van and telling his teammate to keep himself calm. How were _any_ of them supposed to check their tempers here? Least of all a scared and wounded Dean?

Fortunately however, his brother drew a breath in.

A silent signal.

 _Alright, I'm fuckin' calm._

Seth smiled but then piled into the equipment as Roman took a right – and ran a stop sign – hard.

"Hey man – ,"

"Sorry, was trying to get around some jackass. Everyone's driving slow tonight."

"Dean? You still heading east out of the city? Make a noise if you are."

The reply was a cough-grunt.

"Tell him we're coming," Roman called out determinedly, "Make sure he knows that Seth, alright?"

But his younger teammate was already onto other business.

He needed to put in a call to their boss.

For the past seven days the Commissioner had been in Mexico, not for work but a well-earned rest. The last thing she needed or would want was a phone-call – especially to explain that shit had hit the fan – but then no one in the city could mobilize resources quite like she could.

Except perhaps her father, Vince McMahon.

Either out of boredom or a spidey-sense _boss thing_ , she answered her phone on only the third ring, already sounding pissed at having been bothered, which boded really well for what was to come.

" _Rollins_."

"Steph, I need an APB put out and I need it done yesterday."

" _God damn it. What went wrong_?"

It was worrying she assumed that somehow they had messed up and didn't speak wonders for her faith in their team. At the same time though, she'd guessed the problem instantly and so Seth took a breath and laid it all out.

Well, some of it.

He didn't _lie_.

"We need everyone on the lookout for a Volaré station wagon, heading east out of town."

" _Why, who's in it_?"

Seth growled back at her, barely holding it together across the phone line. In the months since the team had gotten back together, he'd had more than a solitary run-in with his boss, his time behind bars and the fact he was older lessening his patience,

"You gonna put it out or not?"

Stephanie sighed but didn't bite his head off.

She was probably on at least her third mojito.

" _Fine. I'll do it, but if anything else happens_ – ,"

"Yeah, yeah," Seth sighed, "We'll keep you in the loop."

He didn't stay around to exchange further pleasantries or remind her to bring him back a Mexican hat, instead ringing off and then hunching across the microphone, needing – more than Stephanie – to keep his teammate in the loop.

"Dean? We've got an APB out, everyone's going to be searching for you soon."

" _Fuckin' hurts, m' feelin' dizzy_ ," Dean croaked at him in vague response. From up in the front seat, Seth heard Roman grumble as both their hearts clenched at the tremor in his voice.

"I know man, I know. But listen, we're coming. We'll get you out of there, I promise, alright?"

Kevin however was still working on the basis that anything Dean said was being said to _him_ and so half of Seth's sentence was drowned out by his babbling, which was more hot nonsense like the rest of it had been,

" _Sssh, it's alright, I'm going to take care of you. We're going somewhere good, somewhere safe. Somewhere where the monsters can't keep chasing us. We've got to hide from them, okay? We've got to run and hide_."

Dean mumbled back,

" _Don't need to hide Kevin, I need fuckin' help here._ "

" _I – I can fix you up._ "

Their teammate let out a snort,

" _You can patch up bullet wounds can ya? Got a needle, thread and antibiotics stashed at home?_ "

At some point during the bizarre conversation – if it even _passed_ for that – Kevin had moved from cold and indifferent to a slightly sullen sounding yet eager to please child. It was a tone that came across all too starkly as he stuttered back uncertainly like he wasn't sure how to respond,

" _No but – but I used to help Mama when Papa had –_ ,"

Dean interrupted him,

" _That's enough_."

It was an angry sounding shout, which wasn't that surprising but it still triggered Seth on the button,

"Easy now."

The time for _easiness_ however was long past them and it was clear across the speakers that Dean was pissed. He had tried to keep calm and he had tried his best to reason but all of those options had resulted in shit. Evidently Dean felt that it was time for a new direction, or else he was too hurt and god damn exhausted to continue to baby the man who'd dragged him off.

" _No more of that abusive family shit, alright man? You think you're the only one who's got a rough past? Growin' up for me wasn't rainbows and sunshine, but I never went out and fuckin' kidnapped someone_. _This shit isn't normal –_ ,"

" _But you're my_ – ,"

" _Best friend? No I'm not. I'm fuckin' not okay_?"

"Dean – ," Seth warned, as Roman's eyes caught the rear view, their combined danger signals fast turning red,

" _Y-yes, yes you are_ – ,"

" _How the fuck could I be? You're my fuckin' stalker Kevin, you're not anythin' else_."

The noise that followed Dean's brutal assessment was part roar of anger and part high-pitched shout. It was also accompanied by a thud and then a cracking sound, both of them coming across the speakers swift and sharp.

 _Shit._

Even though he didn't know what had caused them, the noises still made Seth's guts pitch and roll at once and he leaned himself forward and pressed down the button, trying not to sound frantic,

"Dean? _Dean_. Come on man."

"What the hell was that?" Roman called gruffly, the surveillance van swaying as he tore up the road, "Is he okay? _Seth_? What's going on back there?"

"I don't know man, I don't – Dean, _say_ something dude."

But the only voice they heard was the one they didn't want to and – more worryingly – it sounded as anxious as them,

" _Dean? Oh no – oh no, not again. I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I didn't – I didn't mean to. I didn't mean to hit you but you made me so angry and – it's okay, you just – you just sleep it off a while. When you wake up, we'll be there. We can start._ "

Seth's eyes slid shut in horror.

"God damn it."

He no longer needed to tell Roman what was happening, they both knew already.

Kevin had knocked Dean out.

He _also_ didn't need to spell out what that meant for them, not to mention their desperate rescue attempt.

They had no directions, had no way to follow them.

In short, they were powerless.

Dean was on his own.

* * *

 **So the twist to this story is that Roman and Seth can hear everything. That counts as a twist right? Well, at least** _ **I**_ **think it does!**


	11. Miles Away

**Here's the next update for you! The drama continues…**

 **Skovko, You know, it didn't even occur to me to use The List of Jericho. Ugh! *Smacks own hand for the wasted opportunity and resolves to do better next time***

 **Ohana1337, Yep, a Jericho cameo had to be done! But I promise I won't hurt Dean too, too badly. I'll just kind of rough him up a little bit (or, I won't, Kevin will so don't blame me for anything that happens, okay?!)**

 **Mandy, Ha! See? Expensive coffee strikes again! Glad I'm over here with my hot chocolate all smug on that front. Wow, you re-read it three times already? Yay! I must have done something right. I love their protective, worrisome brotherhood too. I swear it's a writer's dream!**

 **SkittlezLvr79, I like to think that you and Seth are on the same jittery wavelength when it comes to Dean being kidnapped, trying to keep him all nice and calm! And as for things getting worse...um...turns out you might be right…**

 **Ninjoy, Well, you might want to brace yourself because there's a whole lot more stress to come! Sooo glad you like the microphone idea. I really wanted Seth and Roman to be** _ **in**_ **on things but I thought it would be too chaotic to have them all kidnapped at once so this was my around it and I think (I hope) it's worked out well. P.S. Yay to** _ **screw you Kevin**_ **!**

 **Guest, Dean is trouble is kind of my thing (thinking I might need to join/start some sort of self help group) as you can probably tell by now. But there's just something about the other two being all worried that I can't stop writing about! Glad you agree though!**

 **Guest, Under the circumstances I think it's perfectly acceptable to yell at Bo because he messed everything up (bless him, I know he tries!)**

 **Irishfan62, Can't beat a bit of Willy Wonka/Roald Dahl so I will take as many of those quotes as you've got! Bring 'em on and yes, in response, I will ramp up the suspense...just for you!**

 **Here we go then...**

* * *

 **Miles Away**

Dean woke up to the most incredible whistling noise – a continuous shrill note that was sounding in his head. Not only that but it seemed to bleed right through him, filling up both ears, his eyes and his mouth.

It was a horrible noise, like a drill-bit or an opera chick but at least it drew him back from the land of the dead, pulling him through the dark waves and back into the daylight until he opened his eyes and blinked down into his lap.

"Ugh – ,"

" _Dean_?" Seth's worried voice flew at him, slightly lost behind the god damn whistling but sounding pretty anxious nevertheless.

Dean blinked.

Seth?

Why the hell was _he_ there?

Where the hell _was_ there?

What had gone on?

Lifting his head to scan his surroundings and to try and pick his teammate out of the gloom, only managed to bring Dean's body further suffering as his neck reacted angrily to the unannounced shift. Evidently his harried shoulder muscles had been supporting his skull weight for however the fuck long and so changing positions – even very slightly – brought a hot stab fire that made his neck burn.

"Ah – _f'ck_."

" _Dean? You okay man? Hey, can you say something_?"

"S'th?" he grumbled groggily, "Wa's goin' on?"

" _Jesus_."

It wasn't exactly an answer in conventional terms, more of a bodily exhalation of relief and as Dean blinked heavily and tried to find coherence, he turned his head and his bullet wound tweaked.

"Cr'p."

Bullet wound?

Flashes came chugging straight back like a freight train.

Bo Dallas.

Jack Gallagher.

Kevin Owens.

Getting _shot_.

The burst of adrenaline they triggered brought him round a bit, which clued him straight into _another_ problem he had.

He was sitting on a chair in a murky and half-lit basement, with his ankles secured to the legs with miles of duct tape and his arms wrenched and pinned in place behind his back.

 _The fuck?_

Pulling them – which once again set fire to his shoulder – resulted in a familiar metallic jangling noise and he groaned as he realized his wrists were in tight handcuffs and looped through the chair struts.

In short, he was trapped.

The whistling was still continuing unabated and mixed with the screaming of the rest of his body, it almost drowned his worried sounding teammates right out, but slowly their voices drifted down through the ether and he fought back the cacophony to focus in on them,

"Wha'?"

" _I said, you okay babe_?" Roman's deep tone answered him, soft and soothing like honey or cream. Their resident Big Dog had always had that effect on him.

If Roman was calm, then so could he be.

"H'rts."

" _What does_?"

"Shoulder, fuckin' ev'rythin'."

" _I know babe, I know_."

" _Do you know where you are_?"

It was Seth's voice this time, not quite so soothing – simply put, that wasn't his thing – but the hyped sense of urgency was still kind of comforting in its total familiarity.

Dean grunted back.

"No."

" _Can you describe where you are? Is there anything around you_?"

Shaking his head a little, Dean squinted up.

His vision was still on the gloomy side of foggy but the woolly-looking clouds around the corners of his universe were starting to lighten and gradually lift off.

The room he was in was definitely a basement as the tiny little windows near the ceiling could attest, outside there was the vaguest hint still left of daylight but the world seemed dusky grey.

Soon it would be night.

Apart from the chair that he was fucking _shackled_ to, the subterranean space was practically bare. There was another chair set up opposite his one and a table to one side plus a whole lot of dust. Other than that though, it was pretty sparsely furnished with concrete flooring and thick vertical supporting beams.

Fringes of grass clamoured up against the casements and the world outside seemed silent and still. Wherever he was, he had left Suplex City and Dean got the sense it was the wilderness somewhere.

"Basement," he mumbled, trying to make his tongue work and generally stop feeling so heavy and thick, it was like the thing was stuck to his jawbone, even _talking_ took energy he didn't really have, "Can see grass, s' quiet, can' hear any noises, feels like 'm in the woods someplace, y' know?"

" _Good man, good_ ," Seth jabbered back at him, " _Can you see Kevin? Can you hear him at all_?"

"Kevin?"

" _Yeah. Dean, he's the one that took you_."

Wait a minute, what?

Dean blinked,

"He – he did?"

" _Uh huh_ ," Seth responded, softening slightly, " _He forced you into his car at gunpoint, remember?_ _Then before we could follow you, he knocked you clean out._ "

Further bright flashes began to light up Dean's memory and he groaned as they both blinded him and filled up his pounding skull.

 _Fuck._

Sure enough, within them, there was Kevin Owens, pointing the gun directly at his forehead, cuffing him to the door handle, clubbing him in the head –

"Ugh."

" _Babe_?" Roman's voice was there in an instant, deep and concerned, " _Hey,_ _you alright_?"

"Where are you guys?"

" _The surveillance van_."

"I know that, I meant _geographically_ – where on the map?"

There was a pause in which Dean knew they were thinking and the hesitance clearly meant the answer wasn't good. He could practically _see_ the pair of them exchanging glances and was just about to snap at them when Seth finally spoke,

" _Suplex_."

"What?"

" _Look man, I'm sorry, we tried to follow you as far as we could but we never even made it out of the city. When Kevin knocked you out we had no way of knowing where you were headed or which way you were going to go_."

"So," Dean blinked, the nausea fast rising, "You don't know where I am either?"

Seth sighed in response,

" _No_. _But we're working on it, okay man? Trust us. We're going to find out where that asshole's taken you and then we're going to come out there and bring you back home._ "

It was typical Seth in terms of assuredness and ebullience and the conviction sent a bolt of responding confidence through Dean.

His teammates always came through for him.

Always.

No way _this time_ were they going to let him down.

" _Look man_ , we're _going to look through Kevin's apartment, see if there's anything there that might point to where you are_."

"Both of you?"

" _No babe_ ," Roman rumbled back at him, sensing the mild panic and moving rapidly to shut it down, " _I'm staying right here. We're not gonna leave you. We're sticking this thing out with you, for better or for worse_."

"Can't see a lot of better right now man – and I hope to god that wasn't you proposing because if it was, I'm so _not_ on board. I'm expecting the whole _down on one knee_ shit _, ring in the dessert_ deal with fireworks, y' know?"

" _I'll bear that in mind_."

He could hear Roman grinning, then somewhere in the background Seth shifted slightly and heaved a long-suffering sigh,

" _Do you guys want me to give you a minute to keep on discussing – well – whatever this is_?"

"Don't be jealous man," Dean mumbled wearily, "We can always make this love-in a party of three."

" _I'll let that go because you're heavily concussed right now, but for the record this entire conversation is fucking wrong_."

The familiar back and forth made Dean smile lazily, letting the words keep him safe from the storm. With Seth and Roman there – well not _there_ as such, but sort of – his horrible situation didn't seem quite so bad and he was able to keep his growing sense of panic at bay just enough to not freak out. Somewhere above his eyebrows, Dean's head was still pounding and when he stopped and thought about it, he could feel it in his _eyes_. A weird pulsating that throbbed right through his corneas and ramped up the pressure.

" _Dean_?"

"Wha – huh?"

Once again the deep tones belonged to Roman.

" _How's your shoulder? Is it still bleeding hard_?"

Glancing across at the wound in bewilderment, Dean squinted down in the lengthening half-light. Even in the gloom the laceration seemed nasty, with a thick red hue having soaked through the rag. The site of the injury itself felt roasting and even with a concussion, Dean knew that wasn't good.

"Yeah, still bleedin', can't see how bad though."

" _How does it feel_?"

"Kinda like I've been shot."

He said the words with a wry smile of amusement and judging from the dual snorts that fed back to him, the dark humour had garnered a grudging response.

If Roman was soothing and Seth was champing, then he was ribald.

It was the way of the world.

But the grin slid off his face in less than a second at the sound of feet stamping heavily above. Dust motes drifted down from the ceiling and somewhere nearby a door was opened and then shut.

"Fuck, that's him, I think he's comin'."

" _Easy babe, we're still here, we're with you_."

" _Try and see if you can get something out of him – a name, a location – but be careful, alright_?"

With his teammates' instructions buzzing in his eardrums, Dean inhaled deeply and tried to calm down. It wasn't the first time he'd ever been captured – in their line of work it had happened more than once – but it _was_ the first time he had ever been taken by someone other than a criminal gang.

Kevin Owens was not a villainous mastermind, he didn't belong to a local cartel. Instead he was a lonely and _unhinged_ individual who seemed to have poured his hopes and emotions into a friendship that wasn't a thing.

When he was undercover, Dean could roll with the punches, but this was real-life and he had no _clue_ how to proceed. Which was why – as the door to the basement creaked open – his heart escaped his ribcage and launched up into his throat.

Shit.

 _Here goes nothing._

"Dean?"

It was a pretty bad start that just the _sound_ of Kevin sent a shiver of discomfort deep through Dean's bones. Seeing him however, was infinitely worse than that because a second later his whiskery face popped round the door.

On seeing his captive newly conscious and staring, the chubby features widened and he bustled into the room, a jumble of items held in his fingers which clinked as he moved.

He hastily set them down.

"Dean, oh wow. I'm glad you're awake again, I thought – I thought maybe. I mean, I didn't know – ,"

 _Fantastic._

Dean let himself sigh internally.

Just what he needed.

 _Kid Kevin_ again.

"M' fine," he murmured, not really meaning it but figuring it was probably the best choice he had. Kevin responded by scuttling in closer and Dean bit his lip and tried not to lean back. A pudgy hand reached out and palmed Dean's temple which alerted him to a painful welt on his head.

"Does it hurt?"

"It didn't," Dean deadpanned, wincing a little, "But bein' pistol whipped will kinda do that to a guy."

" _Easy_ ," Seth warned in one single syllable but it was grounding and reminded him to try to stay calm. Fortunately however – when it came to mood swings – Kevin Owens was still working on remorse.

"I know buddy, I – I'm sorry, I didn't mean to hit you that hard. It's just that you got me so _mad_ when you were talking and I needed a way to just make you _stop_."

"So you hit me?"

Kevin stared down at his shoes awkwardly.

Jesus Christ.

He really _was_ a kid.

"Yes."

"You gonna do it again if you don't like me sayin' somethin'?"

"No, oh no, I wouldn't hurt you again."

That was bullshit and Dean well knew it, even if Kevin seemed to believe what he said. The truth was that the guy was just too screw loose to maintain any sense of stability for long. The problem he had was trying to work around it.

How did he use that?

Where did he start?

"So if you don't wanna hurt me, you think you could uncuff me? This position you got me in is twistin' my shoulder and I'm not gonna lie, it's hurtin' pretty bad,"

Kevin pulled a face which Dean had to assume was supposed to look sympathetic or upset, instead it looked more like a gurning sort of grimace, like he'd stepped on a landmine or possibly had gas. Glancing across Kevin looked at the car rag that he had taped into place several hours before, sure enough it was soaked dark red with constant seepage and stuttering a little, he turned back to what he'd brought,

"Oh, uh – don't worry, I can fix that. See? Look, I've got things that can help."

Dean glanced across at the offerings on the table which consisted of a handful of thin paper towels, the same roll of duct tape and a bottle of hooch.

It wasn't exactly a functioning first aid kit and Dean took a deep breath,

"Kevin, that won't work. Look man, this thing is gonna need stitches, you can't just keep puttin' shit over the top. If you don't get me to someone who can close this, then there's a pretty good chance I'm gonna bleed out."

Crossing towards him again made Dean stiffen and his tension only worsened as Kevin dropped his hands down. The second they landed over Dean's shoulder, the captive flinched and then hissed in alarm. Big fumbling digits peeled the bloodied tape off and then the chamois fell away and landed sodden on the floor.

" _Dean? What's happening_?"

" _Talk to us babe_."

But the sudden rush of air to the wound site was incredible and Kevin's probing fingers didn't much help, ambling across Dean's enflamed skin clumsily like he'd learnt his bedside manner from a giant fucking ape.

 _Crap, crap, crap_.

Dean dropped his head down, squeezing his eyes shut to ward off the pain.

He doubted that shouting obscenities at Kevin was exactly the way to steady the guy's mood but in the process of biting almost clean through his own tongue he missed the grating noise as the bottle cap was twisted off.

If the pain of mere oxygen had been like agony then neat alcohol was like he'd been set on fire and the second the liquid sloshed onto the injury, his entire body jolted and he threw his head back,

" _Fuck_."

Tears of torture sprang into his blue orbs and Kevin's hand clamped down to hold him in place, continuing to pour on yet _more_ brandy like he was physically trying to drown the wound away.

"Nearly there, I know – I know, it's stingy."

 _Stingy?_

Dean wanted to bark at him sarcastically.

 _Stingy?_

"Kevin," he panted instead, "Please – ,"

"Just a little more."

" _Dean? Listen to me. Focus on my voice babe, focus on my voice_."

As Roman's soothing tones filtered through the earpiece, Dean once more let his eyes slide shut, zeroing in on the familiar reassurance and trying not to let the sheer agony win out.

"There," Kevin chirped out, suddenly sounding brighter, "Now we just need to clean you up."

Dean sat in silence – too wearied to fight it – as Kevin set about gently wiping up the blood. There was brandy practically coating his clothing and smell of it was making his hangover worse. Not that the concussion was particularly helping.

Exactly when had his day become so truly shit?

Dragging shaky breaths in and dropping his head forward, Dean grit his teeth as Kevin dabbed the wound dry, laying a stack of the paper towels across it before – yep, there it was – taping it back up.

It was official.

He was going to bleed to death there.

He was going to bleed out through a half dozen paper towels.

"Kevin," Dean tried again, sounding pretty broken, "I'm serious okay, that's not gonna work."

Mercifully considering the surgery completed, Kevin was screwing back on the brandy cap, looking impressed with his terrible handiwork and wearing an eerie smile which he swung Dean's way.

"Don't worry, I know it won't hold things together, it's just until I fix you."

 _Huh?_

"What d'ya mean by that?"

"Fix you," Kevin replied again simply, lifting up a finger and tapping it on the side of Dean's head, "Up _here_. I'm going to force out the demon, save you from the darkness so you can be free again."

"I don't fuckin' _have_ – ,"

Seth swiftly interrupted him,

" _Hey, be careful man, alright? Go with this horseshit. It's your best option here_."

Dean sighed heavily.

Seth was right.

Biting down a bubble of anger and the flurry of quick retorts that were swirling round his head, Dean decided to pick his next words carefully, attempting to deliver them in what he hoped was a tone of borderline acceptance.

"How you gonna do that then? Remove it? You got some demon pliers somewhere?"

Kevin's hairy face stared back for a second, then it creased into a weird and breathy little laugh,

"No, we ask the light to protect you and we take you away from the bad influences in your life. That's what Mama and Papa did for me growing up and now I'm going to do it for you."

"That why you didn't go to school with the other kids?"

Kevin tensed slightly and Dean held his breath.

"Papa said – Papa said that because I was born evil, I had to be – had to be kept away from folk. They worked real hard to make me be good again because I _am_ good now, aren't I? _I am good_."

At some point during his sad little story, Kevin had started to ever so slightly rock, thumping a single foot anxiously against the concrete and creating a rhythmic background beat.

"Sure," Dean nodded, keeping his voice even, "Sure you are."

Except for the fact he was _not_.

"That's how I knew I had to try and help you. I can see it in you. The two of us Dean, we're the same. We're just good people who've been touched by the darkness and then let others lead us astray."

"Like my friends?"

Kevin glowered,

"Those two _aren't_ your friends Dean."

Somewhere Seth grumbled,

" _The hell we're not_."

"So what are they then?"

"They're liars and false prophets, they make you bad, you're different around them."

In response to Kevin's heated assessment, Dean blinked back in genuine surprise. Did he really come across as someone else when he was with them? Maybe, yes. But that was a _good_ thing in his eyes. Thinking back to the year he'd spent lonely – when they'd not been with him and when _she_ had been gone – he had drifted around like a bitter little shadow or an angry, solitary, miserable ghost. Since they had come back, he'd been immeasurably happier, they had given him purpose and a family again. So sure he acted different when he was with them.

He relaxed.

He smiled.

Why was that a _bad_ thing?

" _Easy_ ," Seth murmured, hearing the silence and figuring his brother might snap back, " _Easy man_."

That was the other thing good about their reunion and yet more proof of their tightly-knit bond. Dean's best friends understood him in an instant.

They didn't even need to use any words.

"Different how?"

Kevin shrugged mildly,

"You're harder, they don't let you truly be yourself."

It was debateable how and why Kevin knew what his _self_ was given that he'd known Dean for a matter of days. Or how he thought he could ever reveal it by holding his _best friend_ hostage and tying him to a chair. Instead of actually say that however – or yell it, which was what his frayed patience was begging him to do – Dean drew in a deep breath of frustration and blew it out hoping he could hold the ire back.

He couldn't – he couldn't even begin to.

But luckily his teammates knew that too.

" _Listen babe, tell him whatever you think he wants from you. Say we're no good. Tell him he's right_."

"No," Dean ground out, the word sounding abstract but then again given that Kevin was a maniac how would he know who it was really intended for?

" _Dean, it's okay_ ," Seth put in shortly, " _Do it man, try and get yourself out of there_."

"No what?"

Dean shut his eyes.

 _God fucking damn it._

He took a deep breath.

"No – I mean, you're right. They _are_ bad friends, always have been. Never there for me when I needed 'em most. Seth? Smaller one? Fractured my skull once. Hit me in the back of the head with a chair. Roman? The bulky guy? Up and left without tellin' me. Who needs friends like that right? I'm better off with 'em gone."

The silence that followed the sentence was sheer agony and Dean felt sick for having said it out loud. He guessed he could have come up with some story – lied about them – but his addled brain was too fried. What he needed was for one of his teammates to say something, _any_ fucking thing to let him know they were fine.

What if they thought he actually meant it?

What if they thought he was no longer on their side?

He was just in process of beginning to hyperventilate when Roman's deep tones rang out clear across the line, steady and soothing as they almost always had been and flooding his system with warm measures of relief,

" _That's good babe, that's it, keep going_."

Kevin too seemed pleased with the reveal,

"See? I told you – I _told_ you we were best friends. I knew I could be better for you than they were."

"So, I guess that means my _demon_ doohickey's gone now? No of more of this exorcism crap, right?"

Kevin shook his head,

"Oh no, he's still in there, you and me have a _whole_ lot of work to get him out."

Dean shut his eyes.

He was fast losing patience, not to mention a fucking litre of blood.

"Kevin, listen man – ,"

But his protests fell on deaf ears as suddenly and without warning, the chubby kidnapper stood up, checking his watch and then making a little clucking noise, like he was late for an appointment or had left the stove on.

Outside the world had fallen into darkness as the encroaching night had chased off the dusk and the only source of light brightening Dean's prison cell, was a single dusty bulb hanging lonely up above.

"Now I need to go out and get some supplies, alright buddy?" Kevin chirped merrily, childlike again, "But while I'm gone, I'll need you to keep quiet – we don't want you yelling and waking up old Mrs. Brown. So that means I'm going to need to do something and you're not going to like it but I don't have a choice."

Dean swallowed nervously.

That didn't sound good.

Kevin stepped in towards him and pulled free a knotted scarf.

 _Shit._

"Kevin, no – ,"

" _Dean_?" Seth barked at him, " _Hey, you all good man? Talk to us. What's going on_?"

But Dean wasn't exactly in any state to respond to him and so the questions went unanswered as he shook his head from side to side, trying to keep it a moveable target and deny his weird abductor any kind of hold.

"Come on, look, I promise I'll be quiet, we're buddies, right? Don't do this. Kevin for fuck sakes, _no_."

" _Dean_ – ,"

Seth's shout blended in horribly with the material as Kevin moved behind him and shoved the scarf into his mouth. With his arms cuffed behind him and his ankles taped firmly Dean had always known that he was probably going to lose but the stale tasting fabric made his stomach roll inside him and amplified the failure until the whole thing felt worse.

He was still trying to work the gag loose with his tongue as Kevin unmercifully knotted it behind – despite the fact that he trusted Dean better now – seeming to tie the fucking thing extra tight. In response to it, Dean let out a growl of discomfort and Kevin tapped his arm and let out a sigh,

"I know, I know, but it isn't for long pal – you just be patient and I'll be right back."

Dean responded with another little grumble but in the scheme of things it was meaningless and so it pretty much passed Kevin by. Instead the bulky captor simply scuttled towards the door again but the relief of his leaving was suddenly tempered as his pudgy fingers hovered briefly over the switch. Dean struggled desperately in his chair and tried to fight it but the word _no_ got lost in the fabric jammed in his mouth.

Before Kevin left, he smiled back broadly,

"Won't be long."

Then he turned off the light.

For a second after the door slammed shut behind him, Dean sat in what was basically a void.

There was no light and no sound.

It was totally empty.

Then thankfully, Seth decided to speak up.

" _Dean? Can you talk_?"

He made a noise back at him, not quite an answer but an audible _nuh uh_ and judging from the way his teammates responded, they had essentially already gathered as much.

" _That's okay_ ," Roman rumbled deeply, trying to keep a hold on the waning patience he had left, " _Doesn't change a thing, I'm staying right here babe_."

" _I'm gonna scope Kevin's place out, alright man? Find where you are so we can haul your ass back. Trust me, we'll get you outta this, you hear me? Me and the Big Guy. We won't let you down_."

It was a comforting assessment but in pain and in the darkness, Dean couldn't help but begin to wonder _how_.

He could already feel the paper towels getting sticky.

He doubted he would be able to hold out for very long.

* * *

 **I know, I know, I'm so evil! You love it when I am though, right, right?!**


	12. I've Lost My Baby

**I hope everyone is ready for a bit of Seth rooting around in Kevin's apartment? Couple of old cameos turn up again in this one for a second go at it, but they're more helpful this time!**

 **Mandy, Hmmm, well they're** _ **trying**_ **to save him, but you know how people always say that it gets worse before it gets better? Um, yeah…**

 **SkittlezLvr79, Haha, sorry, I'm just picturing the spin-off with Kevin as a ghost. Maybe they could quit the force and become ghostbusters with Kevin as their Slimer? Too much? But yeah, don't worry, Kevin is dealt with (I feel appropriately) but you won't find out how until the very last chapter. Which means you have to keep reading this thing!**

 **Ninjoy, I feel I am taking you on quite the emotional rollercoaster here! Glad that you've come around to the whole** _ **Kevin is bad**_ **side of things though. Thought you might eventually and it's not even the end yet, just think what else he might do over the next few chapters… *evil laugh***

 **GUEST, Hi, welcome, it's something Roman does in real life if you listen to him during matches or in backstage stuff with Dean, so I basically borrowed from that. He uses it more often in this story though, since he's the only one that says it and it's a good way to work out who's talking when!**

 **Skovko, I'm glad you like the fake-out proposal, personally I like it freaking Seth out more. I figure that's really why Dean does it, to see him squirm a bit! Don't you worry, Seth and Roman are on it...or...you know,** _ **trying**_ **to be!**

 **AngelOfDeathOfWrestling, Haha, yeah, I know. Sadly I'm just not a slash writer. Happy to read it, but that's it, so hopefully their super close brotherhood will be enough! I kind of see them as like Starsky and Hutch (and Starsky again) whereby they're ridiculously close, eschewing all others and basically life-partners just without the romance...and flared jeans!**

 **Guest, Awww, don't be too emotional, but yeah, I'm being pretty hard on him. Still, the sadder Dean is, the more super protective, caring, worried Roman and Seth moments we get, so every cloud, right?**

 **Guest, Don't worry, I'll save Dean at some point *taps fingers together and waits for the right moment* yeah, not this chapter though! Super glad you're enjoying the story and that each update is keeping you sucked in. I do enjoy writing, but I won't lie, such lovely feedback is always appreciated.**

 **Guest, Thank you! I'm glad people seem to be loving this fiction so much! With any luck this chapter will keep that rolling as well!**

 **Okay, go, go Super Detective Seth Mode...**

* * *

 **I've Lost My Baby**

When it came to the three of them and working as a unit, each of them had their own little niche. Seth was equipment and anything technological, Roman was their power-house not to mention their wheelman and Dean was both their undercover operative and their resident lockpicker.

Seth was not.

Over the years he had watched Dean do it, if not once then a thousand different times, but despite that and despite having been told all the principles, Seth could just _not_ get the bobby pins to work.

"Damn."

Time for Plan B.

As luck would have it – and they'd had so much _bad_ luck that it stood to reason it would eventually have to turn – Kevin's apartment was located at street level, in a tall, densely packed and unloved looking block. The windows were grubby and stained with brown smearings of a substance that Seth wasn't keen to explore, but peering in through them revealed the place was empty.

There were no lights on.

Kevin wasn't home.

They had known that anyway since when he'd knocked Dean out he had already been heading out of Suplex due east, but when it came to suspects it was good to be cautious and so only when he was sure that he wasn't disturbing anyone did Seth wrap his thick winter jacket around his arm, jamming his elbow with a grunt of exertion right the way in through the thin dirty glass.

 _Crack_.

It splintered at once into narrow jagged stalactites before crumbling inwards into the room. What was left in place Seth swept aside briskly before hauling himself up and dropping in across the edge.

"Wow."

His reaction was in response to the damp musty odour, a living _wet dog_ scent that hinted at a leak. Sure enough, as he flipped on his flashlight, it lit up a dark and badly moulded ceiling patch, probably from a shower in the apartment above him or a lack of fresh air or all of the above. Sweeping the apartment with the thousand-watt pocket torch, the beam landed on a variety of things, from a jumble of comic books piled on a table, to a half-eaten instant meal to stacks of badly folded clothes.

In many ways it was like a depressing teenage dorm room, except Kevin Owens was not a kid.

He was a grown ass man.

A deeply _troubled_ grown ass man who had kidnapped their brother and was letting him bleed out.

The thought of Dean and what he was going through drove Seth into the next room along, swinging the door open with one hand on his firearm before relaxing as he realized he was still in there alone.

This room clearly functioned as the bedroom, although oddly it seemed to be devoid of a bed. Instead a mattress lay in the centre, with sheets piled on top but screwed up into a ball. Book towers appeared to function as nightstands, with more scattered seemingly at random across the floor. Stooping down, Seth picked one up, frowning at the title.

It was a self-help book.

 _Demonic Possession and How to Counteract It._

The others he shone his flashlight across all appeared the same.

 _Spiritual Warfare in Modern America._

 _The Devil Inside._

 _Be Not Afraid._

There was barely any damn scrap of paper in there that wasn't given over to the idea of being possessed. Clearly whatever Kevin's father had thrown at him, he'd managed to do a real number on his head. The guy quite obviously lived in total fear of being inhabited by some supernatural force and judging from what he'd told Dean earlier, that was the way he'd spent his whole life.

Besides which Kevin hadn't _just_ been fed stories, he had been fed them by the only adults in his life. Who else was he supposed to believe if not his parents?

No fucking wonder the guy was half-mad.

The only thing in the dark and cramped room _not_ spiritual was a photo frame on the floor by his bed, which had a crack in the glass and had been tipped clean over like Kevin hadn't wanted to see it again. Inside was a photograph which Seth peeled from the fragments before studying it closely.

It showed a woman and a child.

On the face of it they seemed like any other normal family and initially Seth assumed that's what they were, but turning it over revealed some childish chicken scratch, which he assumed belonged to Kevin and which made him blink.

"Huh?"

 _Me and Mom at The Lake House, 1993._

So maybe Kevin's life hadn't been completely filled with bad times?

They went on vacations.

That was something, right?

The closer he looked at the image however, the closer it made him shudder inside. There was something about the look on their faces, something about the glint in her eyes. Maybe he was reading too much into the damn thing but there was just an _uneasiness_ he couldn't shake off.

It was the same uneasiness that drove him to keep it, folding it and tucking it into his pocket rather than dropping it back onto the floor.

The next stop on Seth's grand tour of the apartment was what was probably supposed to be a kitchen of sorts but was buried so far beneath books and unwashed crockery that it was hard to see the appliances he assumed were still installed.

"For god sakes."

There was even a half dismantled bicycle there, although Kevin didn't seem the type of guy who liked to ride. The type of guy to take things _apart_ maybe. Like childhood neighbors and more recently their team. Despite the mountains and mountains of crap though, there was nothing that seemed to strike Seth straight away. There were no keys, no deeds, no signs of other properties.

How the hell were they supposed to find Dean?

He was still rifling hopefully through one of the stacks of paper when he heard the clamour of footsteps in the hall. They were thick soled boots – two pairs of them he figured – then whispering while trying not to make any noise.

Seth had always had excellent hearing but his time in prison had sharpened that skill. Listening out for danger every second of his sentence had been physically draining but mentally rewarding too. It meant that when the door handle twisted slightly, he knew it straight away and drew out his gun, tucking himself well back into the darkness and switching off his flashlight in one easy move. His heart was pounding frantically against his ribcage but there was also adrenaline welling up inside.

As the door creaked a fraction he centred his weapon and barked out an order,

"Hold it right there."

There was a moment of silence and then the door swung open, accompanied by a hand flipping on the light. Seth blinked into it, slightly bewildered, then let out a groan at the face that smirked back.

"Well, if it isn't the Police Chief Commissioner's favourite pet. Or one of them anyway."

"Jericho," Seth growled,

"Please, we're all friends now, call me Sergeant."

Bayley was stood behind him still grinning broadly which was accentuated as she offered up a little wave. Rolling his eyes at the ever effusive rookie, Jericho grunted and shunted his way in, stumbling into a knee-high stack of comics and sending them onto the floor with a thud.

"Real nice place you got here, yours?"

Seth snorted and turned to re-holster his weapon, not in the mood for the round of verbal tennis that he was almost positive was bound to come. Instead he sighed heavily and cut through the bullshit, asking a single question.

"What the hell are you doing here?"

"Emergency call," Jericho replied lazily, "Someone rang in."

"Rang in about what?"

"Some asshole breaking into a crappy ground floor apartment. Neighbor across the way saw a feller smash the window. Small guy, she said, hair pulled back into a bun."

The sergeant stopped and cocked his head curiously, as if appearing to properly see Seth for the first time. It was probably supposed to be a means to intimidate but all it really did was make the younger man mad.

"Look man, I don't have time for this shit, alright?"

"What shit? The _law_? I figured as much."

Seth tensed,

"Listen Jericho, for your information the son of a bitch that owns this place has Dean."

The older man's face twitched slightly in bafflement and he frowned a little,

"That's your friend, right?"

"He's my _brother_."

"You still haven't found him?"

Seth almost growled.

 _God damn it all._

"No. I mean, we know what's _happening_ but we don't know where he is yet."

"How does that work?"

Despite the fact that Seth's patience was fast fracturing, Jericho continued to prod him along, neither noticing nor caring about the palpable frustration or the way his female partner hung several steps back.

"He's got an earpiece, but we couldn't get directions," Seth licked his lips, "He's not in good shape."

Fortunately whatever riposte Chris was working on died on the air as he drank the words in, finally reacting to the desperate expression and putting his smug-faced arrogance to the side.

"The hit he took?"

"That and the concussion," Seth spat back bitterly, battling to keep the anger at bay, "Kevin won't fucking take him to a doctor so if we don't find him soon, he won't have long left."

"Kevin?"

"Fuck."

Even the _name_ frustrated him.

"That the guy that took him?"

"Yes, yes it is."

At the sudden emergence of a contemplative silence, Seth ran his hands through his hair and spun around, casting across the cluttered apartment and wondering where the hell he should start. There had to be something amongst all the rubbish that would lead them to the place that Dean was being held. But that sort of work would take days and extra manpower.

Two things that he – that _Dean_ – didn't have.

"This some sort of _criminal-with-a-grudge_ deal?"

Seth looked up again, feeling dazed,

"Huh?"

"The guy that took your buddy? Ex-con gone rogue, right?"

Seth let out a snort in response to the query, wishing things were as simple as that.

Because – sure – criminals were bonafide assholes, but at least they were fairly _rational_ ones. Murderers, drug dealers, thieves and abusers spent most of their time trying _not_ to get caught. Kevin on the other hand spent his time researching demons, helping out the homeless and conjuring up new best friends. From one moment to the next they couldn't guess what he was thinking, nor did they know what he was planning for Dean. As far as they knew removing his _demon_ could have meant anything from chanting to cutting off his head.

None of those things however were an answer and so as Jericho stared, Seth huffed out a breath,

"Stalker."

"Are you serious?"

"He – he thinks Dean saved him,"

Jericho glanced down and kicked at a book,

"Has all this _light reading_ got anything to do with it?"

Seth growled again,

"Yeah, well, that's the _other_ part. He's got some crazy idea that Dean's possessed, or haunted or I don't know, some shit like that – says he needs to take it out of him."

"How the hell is he going to do _that_?"

Seth shrugged wearily,

"That's the thing, we don't know yet and honestly given what he's already done to him, I don't think I particularly _want_ to fucking know."

For a second the veteran policeman said nothing, then he cleared his throat,

"So you guys can hear all this?"

Seth's expression clouded over in answer and his mind drifted back to the sounds they had heard.

Dean being practically _doused_ in neat alcohol.

His teammate's panicked tones.

His brother being gagged.

When he looked up again Jericho was watching him, conflict marring the hesitant frown. The sergeant's gaze flickered off for a second, landing on Bayley who was staring back wide-eyed. It was impossible to know at any moment what he was thinking but after what seemed like a minute or a lifetime, he nodded and drew in a steadying breath,

"What do you need?"

" _Need_?"

Seth blinked at him.

"I can let you have maybe a half a dozen guys."

"Hold on, is this – is this you _helping_ us?"

Jericho shrugged,

"Maybe."

"Why?"

Jericho blinked and for a second looked unsettled, like he wasn't accustomed to being a nice guy. Then he shrugged and looked away deliberately, clearly not wanting to show his concern,

"Someone at the precinct remembers your buddy Ambrose, says that he's one of the good ones."

"He is."

"Yeah, well," Jericho nodded, "That's why I'm doing this – that's my offer, take it or don't."

Behind them Bayley had moved into the apartment and was starting to leaf through a loose pile of bills. Seth watched her for a second then turned back to the sergeant, gesturing towards her,

"Could they do that?"

"What are you looking for?"

"An address, any other place Kevin could've taken him, anything that might help us out, you know?"

Jericho cast around the gloomy apartment, then sighed,

"Yeah, we can do that."

Seth nodded back at him, feeling deeply gratified, not to mention hugely relieved.

"Thanks man."

For a second the two men simply stared at one another, sharing a moment of understanding for once. The pair of them were newly united in purpose and the fact that they had each chosen a similar career path in life. Okay, so sure, Chris Jericho hadn't done _jail time_ but both men were still tasked with upholding the law and both of them knew to protect their others comrades, so if they had nothing else then they both still had that.

 _Jail time._

His.

Dean's words shivered through him until he could hear each syllable clear and sharp, being passed across to Kevin in a tone that was almost idle and didn't bely the hurt it had caused.

 _Seth? The smaller one? Fractured my skull once. Hit me in the back of the head with a chair._

He knew that Dean had simply been _saying_ stuff – more to the point, they'd ordered him to – but that didn't stop the flashbacks that came with it, or the ever present sense of nausea Seth felt. It made him need to find his older brother even _more_ keenly than he already had. He needed to find him and make it all better, to prove to him again that those dark days were gone.

He didn't register Jericho speaking until the short sharp sentence was almost done, catching the last two words and then blinking, his eloquence leaving him totally,

"Huh?"

"I _said_ what are you two guys going to do?"

Seth paused.

Good question, what _were_ they going to do?

The photograph was burning a hole in his pocket and realizing it, Seth quickly compiled a new plan.

"His parents have got a place out north in the country, we'll drive over there and hit 'em up. I figure if anyone knows about some bolt hole then ten to one it's gotta be them."

Jericho blew out a breath of dissention,

"Geez, that's gonna be tough news for them to hear."

Seth snorted back,

"Yeah, well, maybe not man, they weren't exactly textbook role models themselves. They beat the guy to within an inch of his life – kept him locked up for most of the time. They're the reason that Kevin is so _out there_ , which makes them pretty much the god damn reason he took Dean."

Throughout the sentence he'd been growing more outraged until his fists were _shaking_ they were so tightly clenched. Jericho noticed but didn't say anything, simply inhaling and nodding his head, tipping the blonde hair in the direction of the doorway and sounding serious,

"Go, we got this."

Stopping by his side, Seth fumbled in his pocket before quickly handing his card across. It was some bullshit fake deal designed for informants, stating he was a car dealer or some garbage like that. The number was real though – that was the main thing – and Seth glanced up,

"If you find something that might help – ,"

Jericho flapped a hand,

"Don't worry, we'll call you."

Seth nodded briskly,

"Thanks."

"Sure thing."

He had one foot edged out into the dank hallway when Bayley called out to him, her voice making him look round,

"It's going to be okay, we're going to find him. I've got a good feeling. I just _know_ we are."

He smiled back at her but the expression was a false one designed entirely not to let the kid down. The truth was Seth didn't think he could have smiled if she'd _paid_ him.

He wasn't going to smile again until they got to Dean.

"Yeah," he offered instead, glancing to Jericho whose expression mirrored his own uncertain one, "Yeah we will."

* * *

 **Next chapter we're back with Dean again and things don't get better. In fact they** _ **might**_ **get worse...**


	13. No Place To Go

**So, Dean's very bad, no good day continues here. Sorry…**

 **Skovko, Of course Jericho's a good guy deep (sometimes way deep) down. Just can't ever see him as bad, even when he** _ **is**_ **bad. Does that make sense? He'll always be a good guy to me!**

 **SkittlezLvr79, Part of me feels that Seth probably does his best work when he's rattled. Like in matches where he's screaming and constantly chirping away then comes in on a mad blitz and cleans up. But yeah, that photograph he found...might come up again in the next chapter. Maybe…**

 **Mandy, You know you don't have to apologise for being invested invested in my stories by now. That's what I want! Yeah, Seth's pretty awesome in this story but as for those heartstrings of yours? Well, you might want to look away now!**

 **Ninjoy, Yep, just a nice, easy fact gathering chapter that last one...mostly because this one is really not! I like the whole rollercoaster effect sometimes. Never know which way I'm going to fling you next! But yeah, Seth and Roman need to get a wriggle on and get to their boy before it's too late (I'm such a tease!)**

 **Irishfan62, Yeah, I figured Bayley would be a fun addition in amongst all the grizzled, war-torn men. We need someone with a bit of positivity in there! And as for Kevin and what he's thinking...well, let's just say he isn't letting up!**

 **Ohana1337, Definitely laughing maniacally at my keyboard like some super archvillain or a twisted puppet master! Yeah, poor Dean doesn't have a good time of it here but I don't think I'm** _ **too**_ **too cruel *thinks a couple of chapters ahead* well, not at this point anyway. Gotta ramp things up for a big finale though, right?!**

 **Guest, Kevin has a whole lot of ideas on various different subjects, but no, none of them are particularly fun! He is a sad character (in this story anyway) pretty soon you're going to see the guy is just too far gone *hints wildly at twists to come***

 **No wrestlers were hurt in the making of this story, just banged up and stressed out quite a bit!**

* * *

 **No Place To Go**

Sitting in the dark, handcuffed to a dining chair whilst gagged with a scarf was – shockingly – _not_ fun. In fact it was by far the most torturous two hours that Dean had ever spent in his life.

He knew it was two hours – down to the minute – because Roman had kept the time for him like a growly pocket watch, grunting occasional updates down the earpiece when he could sense that his brother was beginning to despair and interspersing that with meaningless idle chatter that continued to remind Dean he wasn't all alone.

Well, he was and he wasn't.

But mostly he was.

Nor did the blackness let him forget it as it covered the room like veritable shroud, chasing off even the lengthening shadows until everything sat black and shapeless in the gloom.

He had tried getting free – god knows he'd tried that – twisting and wrenching his arms any way he could, but thanks to his shoulder and some Swedish engineering, neither the cuffs nor the chair slats would budge. Roman had tried to suggest things and encourage him, but eventually he had decided Dean would have to give up, clearly being unable to stomach the pained sounding moans and the entirely fruitless grunts.

Still, he was glad – _so_ glad – of Roman's patter and had simply sat listening to it, trying to keep calm. Even the loud and jolting barking of Seth had proven a welcome relief from all the black, startling Dean out of his semi-concussed grogginess and sending a burst of adrenaline through his veins.

" _Okay, so_ – ,"

Dean tensed instinctively.

Had his younger brother found something?

Did Seth know where he was?

Clearly Roman was asking similar mental questions, because not only did the bigger man draw a sharp breath in, but he also snapped a single word out, leaving the channel wide open for both of them as they waited for what surely _had_ to be good news.

" _Well_?"

" _There wasn't anything in there_ that I could see," Seth responded with emphasis on the last part, " _But Jericho's gonna get some guys to help out, go through it all and make sure nothing's missed_."

Dean couldn't help it.

His hopes and mood plummeted along with his body which just sort of _slumped_. Roman meanwhile had his own separate question and although Dean couldn't see him, he could all but hear the frown.

" _Jericho_?"

" _Yeah, showed up while I was in there_ ," Seth sounded dry, " _Thanks for keeping watch man_."

Dean's major question – beyond how to get out of there – was similar to his teammate's although he couldn't speak aloud. Who the hell was Jericho and why was he helping them? Luckily Seth seemed to clue into it at once.

" _Sergeant Chris Jericho outta the ninth precinct_ ," he filled in succinctly in an aside meant for him, " _Showed up this evening to back us up on that gunfight, says a guy he works with down at the station remembers your name – called you one of the good guys_."

Dean snorted wryly and the sound travelled down the microphone.

A good guy, huh?

Like that mattered much now.

" _Hey_ ," Roman growled out, " _Easy uce, you're alright_. _We're not done yet. You've got a plan, right?_ "

The last part of the sentence was directed at the younger man, who Dean could hear grousing as he dropped into place, shunting Roman over a little as his fingers began to whir and type.

" _His parents, they've got a place on the north side, out in the country_."

" _They still together_?"

Seth grunted back,

" _Yeah, they moved out there when they finished up their jail time – eighteen months for her, seven years for him. Apparently the couple that abuses their kid together, stays together._ "

Dean blinked.

Nice.

More keyboard tapping filled in the silence and as he waited for an answer, Dean dragged in another breath, trying to ignore that each time he did so he could taste the scarf.

It wasn't exactly fresh.

He wondered almost absently if it was maybe Kevin's favourite, his tried and tested kidnapping gag. The thought made him suddenly feel newly nauseous and as his stomach lurched and rolled, he fought the notion down. His shoulder wound was still slowly leaking fresh blood out, they didn't need additional bodily fluids as well.

" _Okay_ ," Seth clipped, startling him a little as his dulled and foggy consciousness began to wander off, " _Kevin's parents live out on a farm in Moonsault County, 'bout an hour off_."

No sooner had he spoken than the surveillance van was grumbling.

Clearly Roman was wasting little time.

" _Babe? You still with us_?"

Dean grumbled back at him incoherently, the noise somewhere between a sentence and a sigh. It wasn't exactly a reassuring sentiment, but it proved he was still breathing so in the interim it worked. Through his trusty earpiece he could still hear Seth typing and briefly wondered what he could possibly be looking up.

The weather?

Pizza places?

Dean's stomach rumbled.

Jesus, he could _really_ go for pizza right now.

Shifting a little on the chair and then wincing, Dean made a questioning sort of _humming_ noise and thankfully – somehow – Seth not only heard it, but also seemed to know what it meant.

" _Kevin mentioned an old Mrs Brown, right? Well, I figure she's the neighbor wherever it is you are. He said he didn't want you waking her up remember? So if I can find her, I can find where you are._ "

As usual it was a logical and pretty genius suggestion and judging from the speed with which his fingers were working, the youngest of his brothers clearly thought so too. Dean could almost _see_ the names flashing up in front of him and imagining his teammate quickly shifting through them and narrowing the perimeters actually managed to keep him calm.

A bit.

It was actually an almost _soothing_ sensation to hear the frantic, non-stop little clicks, like the three of them could have been back in the warehouse, sitting at their desks working long through the night.

The sound of a loose branch scratching at the window swiftly pulled him out of that dream and he let out a sigh as he blinked into the darkness.

Nope, there he was.

Still deep in the shit.

Despite that though in the hours he'd been waiting, he had actually started feeling borderline calm. Well, not _calm_ but being on his own there was infinitely better than having Kevin hanging round. The longer the bulky little stalker was absent, the more time it gave Roman and Seth to hunt him down. In fact if Kevin had wanted to _stay_ gone, then Dean could have definitely got on board with that.

Sadly however it wasn't to be.

Ten minutes later there was a thud somewhere above him like a front door being slammed heavily shut and the noise was followed by clumsy, clumping footsteps and a stark realization.

 _Shit._

Kevin was back.

In response to the knowledge Dean's nervous system seized up and he grunted and once again tried to break loose. He wasn't entirely sure why he was bothering – it hadn't worked before and it wouldn't work then – but it seemed so much better than simply sitting _waiting_.

No matter what happened, he wasn't giving in.

" _What was that_?" Seth barked, " _Is that him again?"_

Dean did his best to respond,

"Uh huh."

It was kind of a _dribbly_ and muffled attempt at speaking but it relayed the message because Seth's answer was short.

" _Shit_. _Okay – okay man, don't worry. Just do what you did before. It's going to be alright_."

Alright?

Dean snorted.

An interesting expression but he didn't have time to think it over for long because Kevin was already plodding down the staircase, his heavy childlike tread shaking dust down from the ceiling and thickening the air until Dean began to cough.

" _Babe_?"

He heard Roman's alarmed sounding shout in the background but he couldn't both reply to it and try to suck in air. Besides which breathing was probably more important and so he choked and he spluttered until the tears streamed down his face.

Maybe he wouldn't bleed out down there after all?

Maybe lack of oxygen would finish him off first?

He was so busy trying to regulate his breathing and not perspire on the cold basement floor, that he didn't hear Kevin scurry back into the room again or realize he was there until a big hand palmed his neck,

"Dean? Whoa. It's, okay buddy. I'm going to take this off now. Wait a minute. Here you go."

At the same time that the bigger man had been banging on his spinal cord – in some misguided hope that a few loose pats would help – he had also been untying the fabric one handed and as the scarf fell away from him, Dean inhaled through his mouth.

The air was sweet – well, stale but still beautiful – and he sucked it in like he could never get enough, breathing so heavily that his throat even _squeaked_ at him, drying out completely and pleading with him to ease up.

" _Dean_?"

" _Uce_?"

His teammates were still calling, sounding both frantic and helpless all at once and their panicky tones made Dean slow a little as he gritted his teeth to ground a shaky word out.

"M' alright."

"What was that, huh?" Kevin chided ruefully, clearly assuming the assurance was all for him, "Getting yourself worked up isn't the answer. You need to calm down Dean, just keep calm."

Calm down?

How the fuck did he think _that_ was possible?

Dean looked up with a fierce and burning gaze, everything about the other man was poisonous and just staring at the features made Dean's temper start to flare. He had been shot at, kidnapped, gagged and nearly choked to death.

 _No more_.

He opened his mouth.

 _No more_.

"Kevin – ,"

" _Hey man, remember what I told you, keep playing up to him, get him on side here_."

Dean shook his head at Seth's assessment bleakly, his voice sounding defeated even to his own ears,

"I can't."

" _Yes you can man_ ," Seth fired back at him, as Kevin's head quirked in confusion, " _Yes you can_."

"Can't what?"

"Do this," Dean answered his abductor, "Kevin, I can't fuckin' do this anymore. I can't just sit here and pretend this is normal. It isn't, it's fuckin' _kidnappin'_ , alright? You need to tell me where the fuck I am right now, tell me or for Christ sakes just let me go."

It was pleading – sort of, for all he was growling it – which made his teammates abruptly shut up. Dean had never done begging or bartering and so listening to him do it was probably no easy task. At the same time though, he was running out of options.

He was getting light-headed.

He was losing too much blood.

Besides, if _Kid Kevin_ was back at the helm again, then there was always the chance that simply shouting might work. No child liked to be told off by an adult and if Dean could get it right then he could scare him into line.

Apparently however he did _not_ get it right because not only did Kevin not blink at the scolding, he didn't actually blink _full stop_.

Kid Kevin didn't seem to be in there any longer.

Whackjob Kevin however was on form.

"Dean, Dean, Dean, that temper is no good for you. Do you see now why we need that demon gone? _He's_ the one that gives you that evil tongue. Cursing is bad. Don't make me wash your mouth out."

"Fuckin' do it then," Dean spat with venom, only stopping when Seth barked angrily,

" _Hey man, stop_."

To be honest it was probably the jolt that Dean needed.

He had been right on the edge of pushing things too far.

Interestingly though Kevin merely sat in silence, watching him like he was some tropical bird. All the guy needed was a notebook and binoculars and they would have been set.

Was this how zoo animals felt?

Beneath his gaze Dean shifted uncomfortably, the fight bleeding out of him almost _literally_. Seeing him cool down though seemed to please Kevin because he smiled and turned back towards the table again. Sitting on top was an abandoned bag of groceries, which had tipped itself over as he had rushed to get to Dean. Inside was water and what looked like some foodstuffs and the captive felt his stomach start to rumble again.

"Hungry?"

Dean paused, not sure how to answer.

He didn't want to be beholden to him.

" _Come on uce,"_ Roman's voice rumbled as Seth concurred,

" _You need to keep your strength up_."

They had a point but Dean still wasn't biting because frankly Kevin was not someone he could trust. What if the guy had laced the food with sedatives or some fucked-up pill mix to force _the demon_ out? Literally nothing with Owens was too out there and so food was off limits.

He would rather starve to death.

"No."

"That's okay," Kevin shrugged, "We'll eat later. You thirsty?"

Seth barked at him,

" _Don't you dare say no, you're losing blood Dean, you need the fluids. I don't care that you hate him, you take the fucking drink_."

Dean growled a little but then sighed heavily, hating the fact that he was having to ask for something he needed,

"Yes."

"Yes what?"

Dean flinched.

"Oh you gotta be _kiddin_ ' me?"

Seth barked again in warning,

" _Hey_."

 _Christ._

Apparently he had no choice in the matter, not that it was going to be easy to admit. Kevin was still staring back at him expectantly and the look of parental judgement put Dean's hackles up.

"Yes _please_ ," he forced out with monumental effort, his tongue getting stuck on his teeth as he spoke.

God he hated this.

Hated every second.

Did Kevin have to fucking humiliate him as well?

" _Well done man,"_ Seth chipped in soothingly as Roman chirped at him as well,

" _You're doing great._ "

Their voices centred him and he breathed them in deeply, bracing himself as Kevin moved in, twisting the cap off the bottle of water and holding it out towards him,

"Come on now, drink."

The process of actually getting refreshments _into_ him was hopeless at worst and chaotic at best, comprising of Dean sort of tipping his head back and Kevin pouring most of the water down his shirt. The other slight problem was that Kevin didn't let up or give him any chance to draw breath, simply funnelling the liquid in a continual waterfall and only stopping when Dean started to splutter and cough.

"There is that enough?"

Dean shot him daggers but on the plus side the water almost instantly perked him up and although he still felt agonized and _awful_ some of the fogginess had lifted from his head.

"Uh, yeah."

At some point Kevin had bustled back away from him and was busy rooting through the grocery bag once more, taking out crackers and chips and fucking _sandwiches_ that made Dean's stomach chew itself a little hole.

 _No._

Evidently however, the thing he was looking for wasn't actually food based at all, because what he produced with an actual _aha_ sound, was a sewing kit and a surgical dressing made of thick gauze.

One of those items Dean was happy to look at.

The other one however, he was definitely not.

"See?" Kevin beamed proudly, crossing back over and his proximity once again making Dean sit back, "Didn't I say I'd take good care of you? Do you think I'd let my best buddy bleed to death?"

There was a moment of silence in which Dean watched horrified as the other man extracted a needle and thread, clumsily looping the cotton through the thin eye and then fumbling with his fingers to tie off the end.

It _almost_ seemed like Kevin was suggesting that he actually try to sew Dean up.

Only that was so far removed from fucking crazy that he vaguely dismissed it.

No, surely not?

"Uh, Kevin – ,"

"Don't worry Dean, I know what I'm doing. This is my secret skill, alright? I never had new clothes, Mama said I didn't need them, so I used to just let out all the old ones I had."

"Kevin," Dean tried again, starting to panic because no _way_ could he let the guy loose on his skin, "Look man, come on, I'm not an old sweater, this is my _shoulder_ you wanna jack up here."

" _Jesus_ ," Seth breathed, " _Is he suggesting what I think he is_?"

Dean coughed in answer.

 _Yes – yes he fucking is._

As Kevin pulled the spare chair in even closer – scraping it noisily across the concrete floor – Dean tried to back up, the attempt failing miserably as his captor-come-surgeon loomed in above him and poked his chubby tongue out, ready for work.

"Kevin, _no_ , alright? You can't do this."

" _Babe_?" Roman called, only the kidnapper drowned him out,

"I'm helping Dean."

"You're _not_ fuckin' helpin'. Get _off_ me, alright? I need you to _stop_."

But Kevin seemed eerily set on his repair job and as he slowly peeled the tape up, Dean went for broke, his brain throwing out the one thing he could think of that might stall things.

It was not his smartest thought.

"Is this the sorta shit that you did to your friend Sami?"

Instantly Kevin's entire body froze, his eyes even seeming to shiver into motionless as the lids around them widened then stopped.

"W-what?"

" _Damn it Dean_ ," Seth hissed down the earpiece, " _What the fuck did you say that for_?"

But it didn't really matter that Seth wasn't happy because as Kevin backed away in a daze he dropped the needle and in Dean's world that was a definite win.

Right up until the point when it wasn't.

Kevin's face had turned an irate shade of red.

"What did you just say to me?"

"Sami," Dean shot back, not even close to giving up, "Sami Zayn, the kid you took the first time. Remember him, huh? You used to think that _he_ was your best friend."

" _For Christ sakes Dean will you just stop talking_?"

Seth seemed almost apoplectic with anxiety, but on that front he was nowhere even _near_ to Kevin who seemed to be having a breakdown of sorts.

"No, don't say it – _don't_ say his name again. I never want to _hear_ that name."

Lifting his hands he began to pound his own forehead, thumping his fists against his skull like a madman and pacing around the floor like he was trapped in a tiny maze.

" _Dean? What's happening_."

Kevin was sucking breaths in, _spitting_ on each exhale his body was so wound up. It occurred to Dean that maybe in hindsight, the whole Sami thing had not been a great idea and that thought was confirmed when Kevin suddenly stomped over and hauled Dean forward by the collar of his shirt.

"Fuck – ,"

"How do you know him? How do you know Sami?"

"I'm a cop, okay?" Dean gasped in agony as the cuffs rattled loudly and jolted his shoulder round, "How d' ya think I know?"

"Don't say it," Kevin screamed at him, "I don't want to hear it. _Don't say his name_."

"Alright man, alright."

" _Uce? Hey. You okay in there_?"

With Kevin still practically breathing down his neckline, reassuring Roman was going to have to wait and instead the pair simply stood in a tableau, with him leaning back and Kevin snorting in his face. The warm angry air puffed over Dean's cheekbones and he winced at the grip his captor still had, scrunching the fabric of Dean's formerly clean white t-shirt and pulling so hard that he could hear the seam rip.

For a second he assumed that a point was being made to him – that Kevin could _at will_ beat him straight into the ground – but when he chanced a look up at the features, it was into a gaze that was focused on something else.

Something below the neckline of Dean's t-shirt and taped to his chest.

 _Oh holy shit._

The mike.

"Kevin, listen to me – ,"

"What's that?"

"I need you to listen – ,"

"I said _what's that_?"

The sentence was issued as a scream of hysteria and at the same time Kevin reached down and ripped it right off. The tape came away from his pectorals like a wax strip and Dean flinched as it also removed several hairs.

 _Ouch._

Evidently back in the surveillance van his teammates could hear the crackling of the mike, which made Seth's voice come through knowing and frantic as he guessed at the details and tried to offer some advice,

" _Fuck. He's found it hasn't he? Alright man, stay calm okay? We're almost at his parents' house. They'll know where you guys are_."

It seemed like a long shot but it was still reassuring in that if Seth believed it then it _had_ to be true. Unfortunately however whatever else was added, Dean didn't hear as Kevin suddenly spun back, throwing the microphone onto the floor distastefully and then advancing towards him with both hands stretched out.

"Kevin wait – ,"

But talking was over and apparently his furious abductor was _done_.

Within seconds the fingers were wrapped around his windpipe and tightening fiercely as Kevin choked him out, shouting over Dean's explosion of panic and getting in his face.

"Why won't you let me help? All I ever wanted was to save you. Why won't you let me help you get the demon out?"

As Dean's vision blurred and his lungs screamed for oxygen, Kevin suddenly, abruptly let go, stepping back but keeping eyes tight on him as Dean slumped forward and hauled in fresh air.

" _Babe_?" Roman called out, " _Stay with us, stay with us_."

They could no longer hear but they knew _something_ was going down.

"What else Dean?"

"Huh?"

The detective looked up wearily, his addled eyes seeing _two_ Kevins in the room.

"What else have you got that links you to them? Don't lie to me. It won't be good if you do."

Dean's stomach seized and then almost rolled over as he realized that Kevin was on to his game. If he didn't own up, then the guy would fucking _end_ him but if he gave up the earpiece then how the hell would he stay sane? Hearing Seth and Roman was the one _single_ reason he hadn't gone right off the edge as it was. Being there alone – with the shit now erupting – was genuinely more than he thought he could bear.

He didn't want to die alone.

"I don't – ,"

"Don't _lie_ to me."

The sentence was bellowed, so shrill and god damn _furious_ that it made the walls shake. Dean was torn, completely and utterly but eventually he slumped down and forced the words out,

"Earpiece."

"What?"

"I'm wearin' a fuckin' earpiece."

Kevin's piggy eyes grew wider and he strode across the distance between them, grabbed Dean's head and _almost_ ripped the thing out. It was a fumbled attempt and for one awful moment, Dean thought he'd actually pushed it right in but then it came away in a gut-wrenching sensation with Roman's frantic promises fading swiftly from his ear,

" _Don't worry babe, alright? We'll find you. We'll find you uce. We'll get you out_."

Then the device was crushed beneath a boot heel and Kevin bent so close that Dean could feel his beard hair. The loner's voice was more dangerous than he'd heard it and the tone shivered through him although he tried to look calm,

"Big mistake buddy, looks like you _can't_ be saved. You and me? We could have been _such_ good friends. But there's only one thing to do with demons who've taken over. We have to make sure you can't hurt anyone again."

* * *

 **So, what's Kevin's plan here? What's he going to do to him?**

 **Next chapter, we finally get to meet Kevin's parents. Well, sort of…**

 **Also, in a completely unrelated note re: mic/mike, I actually consulted a sound technician friend for this spelling conundrum and was told it is 'miked' and so mic/mike are therefore a personal preference. The things you learn, huh?**


	14. Hard Feelings

**Okay, so I won't lie, this chapter is kind of creepy and I actually scared myself by reading it back in the dark on Halloween to try and edit it (stupid idiot).**

 **Skovko, Come on, you know Dean loves it when I'm mean to him...and you know you love it too. Right? *Tickles you under the chin like a kitty until you agree***

 **Mandy, Yep, silly boy gets himself into all sorts of scrapes. Don't blame me for these things, he's just disaster prone, I have nothing to do with it *walks off whistling***

 **AngelOfDeathOfWrestling, Aww, don't cry in the corner too hard, I promise Dean will be returned to his bros in (more or less) one piece. You know, eventually, someday, maybe…does this make me cruel? Strap in, because there is a bit more stomping on your feels to come!**

 **SkittlezLvr79, Well, as for something worse happening...nah, I won't spoil the surprises still to come. But I do have some good news (sort of, for some of the characters by no means all of them) in this chapter, so read ahead!**

 **Ninjoy, Well, obviously I didn't want to make you too sad but at the same time I'm glad you liked the chapter so much. Have kind of being going extra heavy on the tension in this story, but yes, I promise, everything will be fine...probably…**

 **Minnie1015, Hey, glad you dived into this series and like it so far! Hopefully the rest can deliver on that. Glad you're a fellow hurt-Dean-protective-boys aficionado and thank you for the compliment about bringing them to life. I really enjoy writing these three idiots. They just speak to me!**

 **Briana9898, Hi, thanks for reviewing. I'm super glad you're enjoying it. Yeah, I** _ **might**_ **be guilty of loving a bit of tension (and hurt Dean, what can I say?!) I hadn't thought about the Criminal Minds thing, but then I** _ **do**_ **watch an awful lot of TV! Hope this chapter keeps the excitement going! Oh, and if you think Kevin's batshit now…um, yeah, about that…**

 **Ohana1337, Yeah, guilty, I do love the suspense and thank you for calling it a talent and not a cruelty which at times it probably is! Oh yeah, Dean's smart mouth is always running but that's why he's just so fun to write. Love writing all of them really (alright, Dean more so) I'm just glad you think I'm getting their characterization down. Big thanks!**

 **Irishfan62, Oh yeah, the time is** _ **definitely**_ **up but the Big Damn Heroes have still got a little way to go and one more thing to find before they can get there. Not giving any clues away, you'll just have to read and find out...**

 **Back to Seth and Roman then...**

* * *

 **Hard Feelings**

"Shit," Seth shouted as the equipment went static, his stomach lurching horribly, "No, no, no. _Fuck_."

"Is he gone?" Roman barked with agitation from the driver's seat, where he was still propelling the van at speed along the road, " _Seth_ , is he gone?"

" _Yes_ god damn it."

The shout confirmed Roman's worst fears.

"Oh man."

There was some more frantic thumping from the back of the surveillance truck as Seth banged and crashed at Roman wasn't sure what. At first he assumed that the sounds were technological – that Seth was trying to rig up some new device – but as the noises become wilder and more peppered with curses, he realized that the younger man was simply freaking out.

"Shit, fuck – fucking _mess_."

" _Hey_ , calm down, this isn't doing any good."

"Calm down?" Seth spluttered, practically insensible, "How am I supposed to do that? Kevin's got him all alone out there and we don't know where he is and we can't fucking help. He could be doing fucking _anything_ to him – you heard him on the mike, he was madder than hell."

Roman shut his eyes at Seth's unhelpful roundup.

As if he wasn't thinking it all through as it was.

As if he wasn't picturing Dean worried, wounded and helpless in the clutches of a madman with a hang up on evil beings and bullshit pseudo-spiritual stuff.

"Look, hold on alright," he offered out evenly, "We're only a mile from where Kevin's parents live."

"What if they don't have any god damn answers?"

Roman's grip tightened around the wheel,

"They will."

They drove the rest of the short distance in silence, each man consumed by their own similar thoughts. There was a horrible feeling of total dislocation when one of the three of them for whatever reason wasn't there. A sort of uneasy sense of _amputation_ , like they were missing a vital piece they couldn't function without.

It was strange to think that they had actually spent longer _not_ being a threesome than they had being a team. In total, their first successful run as The Shield had lasted eighteen months, although what a ride it had been.

They had been back together again for over six months now but before that they had been without Seth for _three years_. His re-joining however and subsequent contrition had proven something totally.

They were _meant_ to be a team.

If one of them was missing then their world moved off kilter and that was especially true if the missing man was Dean.

Ambrose.

 _Their_ Ambrose.

An unpredictable sort of whirlwind that was equal parts grumpy, playfully childlike and unhinged. Perhaps more so than any other member, both Seth and Roman were hardwired to keep him safe. They had both hurt him – even _physically_ in some cases – and so keeping him sheltered was their means to atone, plus with the untimely death of Dean's fiancée, they were even more protective.

They needed to find their uce.

The Owens' family homestead was decidedly uninspiring in the way that a deeply dilapidated farmhouse and unkempt surroundings usually was. There was a long driveway up to the house flanked by fencing and Roman turned into it, still on the gas pedal full-force.

Sensing the sudden change in direction, Seth clambered through and took his place up in the front, his eyes tracing the unloved, broken-down perimeter, crumbling outbuildings and overgrown grass.

"Geez, nice place."

"Guess they're not natural farmers."

"They probably just wanted to get out of town, put what happened with Kevin behind them and make sure everyone left 'em alone."

Roman grunted, slaloming a pothole then promptly steering over several more,

"Well then they picked the right place, the damn road's barely _driveable_. Can't imagine them getting many visitors way out here."

The house itself was positioned up on a high point, with fresh green spring trees dotting the rolling hills behind. The building was small and square in dark timbers, with a sloping porch roof and more outbuildings around the sides. It almost looked a little like an early pioneer-house with a rustic aesthetic straight out of the olden times. Roman wasn't sure which _olden times_ exactly because history had never much been his thing but the fact was that they weren't in the damn pages of a textbook, they were square in the modern era.

So why weren't there any lights?

Seth too seemed to be following this viewpoint, because he shifted uncomfortably,

"Doesn't it seem a little dark?"

"Yeah," Roman grunted, pulling up with a crunch of gravel and feeling himself shiver, "Yeah, it does."

Outside the van the night air was frigid but the surroundings were lit up by the headlights and full moon. It cast a pallid and creepy sheen across the farmhouse and made Roman instinctively reach for his gun.

Seth did the same thing, pausing by the porch steps and glancing across briefly,

"You ready man?"

"Let's get it done."

The younger man led the way up to the front door, with Roman hugging the wall to his near side. Closer up the house looked half-abandoned, with weeds growing through the porch slats and twisting up around the struts.

Something about it just didn't feel right.

Something about the place was all wrong.

"Hello?" Seth called out, raising his knuckles and rapping them against the wood, "Anybody home?"

In response the door creaked open a fraction, propelled by the force of the Shield man's frenzied knocks. The fact that the front door was unlocked and unbolted instantly drew a shared look of alarm and at once the guns were raised again at chest height as Seth took a breath and pushed his way in.

"Suplex City Police," he offered, hoping for a reaction.

Instead there was none.

"Maybe they moved out?" Roman rumbled from behind him, surveying the dark hallway,

"What and left all their stuff?"

Seth had a point, the house was still furnished and not just in a storage-sense but in true _Marie Celeste_ style. A newspaper sat on the dresser by the front door with a pair of boots that looked like they'd just been kicked off. There was a runner, framed pictures and some laundry on the staircase that was pressed and neatly folded like someone was meaning to take it up.

Again Roman shared a look with his comrade, reading the expression on the younger man's face.

Where the hell were David and Judy Owens.

Had they simply got up one day, walked out and left?

The house itself seemed oddly cold and airy, as if the doors and windows had been open for days. Considering that the spring was an achingly slow one and that the lingering winter was still rumbling on, it seemed unlikely that the climate was too warm for them or that they liked the fresh air.

Had they frozen to death?

As Roman frowned, Seth stepped off through the lounge door, trying again to rustle up some life.

"David? Judy? We're here to talk about Kevin. You've done nothing wrong. We just need your help."

Again a stony silence echoed back at him and following him bodily, Roman flipped on the light. A single unadorned bulb blinked back down at him, bathing the room in a sudden bright glow. Seth swore slightly and then whirled round to glare at him as the Big Dog shrugged,

"You'd rather do this in the dark?"

"Of course not man," Seth huffed in disapproval, "Just gimme some warning next time, alright?"

The room – like the house itself – was pretty badly cared for and clearly hadn't been modified in years. There was a long TV unit that took up the far wall, in a cheap looking faux-mahogany veneer, a wooden floor that was covered by a garishly patterned throw rug and a floral patterned, badly clashing three-piece sofa set.

In short it was exactly the sort of bad décor that Roman would expect an abusive couple to affect but the fact they weren't there to explain their poor choices was the niggling worry.

 _Why_ weren't they there?

Across the room, Seth moved over to the shelving and began to scan quickly through the photographs he saw. There weren't a lot of them, but the ones that he _could_ see looked normal and mostly seemed to be shots of them. There was one of Judy standing by a vehicle, ginning at the camera some forty years ago and in another one she and David were at a viewpoint, her head on his shoulder.

Just a couple in love.

Of course that couple then went on to have a child whom they tortured and kept locked away from the rest of the world. A child who then became a supremely fucked up _adult_ who was currently tormenting their injured best friend.

The snapshots reminded Seth of the one in his back pocket and as a sudden thought came to him, he quickly pulled it loose, hunting through the shelves until the came to the photo albums and then ripping out a couple and dumping them down.

"What are you doing?" Roman frowned back at him, the thick brows narrowing in baffled alarm. Dropping to his knees, Seth flipped through the pages, holding out his own shot and comparing each snap he found.

"I snagged this outta Kevin's apartment."

Roman took it from him, reading the back,

" _Me and mom_."

"It was the only photograph of his mother he had in there, so I guess it must be special or something like that."

Roman frowned,

"So where is this _lake house_? You think that maybe he's taken Dean there?"

"That's what I'm wondering," Seth continued flipping pages and was relieved when Roman quickly squatted down as well, placing the original image in front of them and leafing swiftly through another album on his own.

Outside the wind whistled shrilly through the window and rattled at the fixtures that were still screwed into place. It gave the whole room – the whole _farmhouse_ – a deeply spooky feel but although it was unsettling it didn't put them off.

It would take more than shadows to stop them from searching.

Nothing else mattered compared to finding Dean.

As Seth finished up with the second of the albums and reached for a third, Roman suddenly stopped, slamming a finger down purposefully in his own book and then shunting it across,

"Wait a minute, here, look."

Sure enough the double-page spread images were of a glittering lake and a cabin in the woods. The photographs were mottled and yellowed by bad exposure but as Seth held up the Kevin shot he was pleased to see a match.

There was the same sloping shoreline, the same wooden jetty and a corner of the same little log house in the back.

"So where the hell is it?"

Roman scanned the album page, his eyes finding a faint line of scrawl near the top,

"Senton Lake."

Seth blinked back at him,

"That's – what – thirty, maybe forty minutes from here?"

He was up on his feet in the time it took to draw breath, pacing towards the hall with the album tucked beneath his arm. Roman hadn't even registered he'd _taken_ it, but then again Seth had always pretty much moved lightning fast.

"Hey man, where are you going?"

"Back to the van. Now I've got a possible location, I can cross-check the area again for a _Mrs Brown_."

"You go ahead," Roman rumbled, hoisting his gun again and making Seth pause,

"Why, what are you planning on doing right now?"

"Someone needs to check the rest of this place out, make sure no one's here. Doesn't feel right."

"You want me to – ,"

"No," Roman shook his head implicitly, "I'll be fine, you go and hunt down Dean."

Seth nodded back,

"I'll shout when I've got something."

Then he turned and in the next second he was gone.

For a moment longer Roman stood like a statue, breathing in and out and trying to stay calm. The pervading feeling of something being _off_ there hung around his senses and prickled at his skin. He moved off into the kitchen very slowly with his gun raised at head height.

There was no one in there.

Once again the act of flipping the light on chased some of the growing uneasiness away and casting round he drank in the tiles, which were bright and jumbled patterns much like the lounge had been. Also like the lounge, the place seemed abandoned, with plates on the table and pots in the sink. There was even a carton of milk on the table but as he stepped in close to it his nose picked up a stench.

" _Geez_."

At some point the contents of the carton had gone sour.

As in really, _really_ sour.

How long had it been out?

It was just another factor in the ever-building mystery and it made his stomach tighten as he forced himself on. Logically the next stop would have been the staircase – to check out the bedrooms and the further rooms upstairs – but instead he stopped in the hallway by a closed door, his fingers hovering over the knob.

Something was calling him down into the basement.

Like an instinct or an impulse.

He didn't know what it was.

Part of him briefly wondered if Dean was somehow down there – maybe he had been in Kevin's folks' house all along – but at the same time he knew that wasn't the answer, which left another question.

What the hell was left to find?

It didn't really help that the door creaked heavily – like a cheap sound effect from some Halloween film – _or_ that the staircase and basement lay in darkness and so pausing on the top step, Roman fumbled for his phone. The light it threw out was bright and ethereal and it illuminated an empty space and chased out the gloom.

At first glance it was a just a typical basement – jumbled with storage and lacking a Dean – but on closer inspection and after clumping down the staircase, Roman realized that the flooring was earth. There was a set of garden tools propped up in one corner and some covered pieces of furniture which took up some more space, but other than that the basement seemed empty.

Roman flashed his phone again.

There was something on the walls.

Stepping in closer, Roman tipped his head right, trying to look at what the stains were. They were rust coloured and thin, like someone had spilt some paint once but they had trickled from roughly head-height where an explosion of stains were.

He looked at them for maybe a second before his stomach turned over.

 _Holy shit._

Blood.

Not just any kind of blood splatters either, but the type of print you got from shooting someone in the head. The fact that there were _two_ stains – almost identical – made Roman draw a breath in.

Two people.

He stepped back.

As he did, his heel caught on something and he stumbled inelegantly into a post. Turning back towards the trip hazard, he was startled to see a raised mound, another lying alongside it and the turned and built-up earth piles running perhaps five feet or more.

In fact they were probably about the length of a person.

Roman sucked a breath in.

Kevin's parents.

 _That's_ where they were.

The realization – and he didn't have to question it, he knew in an instant that the two of them were there – hit him like a punch to system and he swiped his hand across his face and then let out a wearied growl.

Things had been bad enough when Kevin was just a _stalker_ but somewhere along the line his psycho side had won out. He had tracked down his parents, put a bullet in both of them then buried them in the basement as if they wouldn't be found. To be fair, they very nearly _hadn't_ been but all that had changed now.

In fact _everything_ had changed.

Using his cell phone, Roman climbed the staircase, taking the rickety steps two at a time. His lightly shaking fingers were dialling three digits and with a final growl he clamped it up tight against his ear, finally getting signal as he emerged into the hallway and snapping a response out.

"I need the police, _now_."

Stalking across the runner in his trek towards the doorway, Roman sighed impatiently at the soothing female voice, telling him to stay calm and that a unit was on its way to him, then asking his location, the situation and his name.

"Moonsault County, Hogan Farm. We got two dead bodies in the basement out here."

"Alright sir, now if you just give me your name – ,"

Roman grunted shortly,

"Just send the damn cops."

He hung up briskly and without any warning, cutting the even-toned operator off. He winced a little at the abruptness of his manner – he wasn't in the habit of talking to women like that – but then shook it off quickly, vaulting the porch steps and heading for the van.

The back doors were open and he clattered up through them, breathless from both the shock and his part-walk, part-run. Seth was sitting in front of the monitors and he instantly started speaking without even turning round, scribbling an address down clumsily across some paper and seeming a little bit winded himself,

"Okay, so there's a _Rosalind_ Brown out at Senton, eighty years old, widowed, lives alone. Got a nice little family living on one side of her with no criminal records, so that's a no-go but on the _other_ side there's this waterfront cabin which she rents out through the summer. That' _s_ _gotta_ be our place."

Roman licked his lips,

"Hey – ,"

"Come on man, get driving already," Seth looked up, then frowned a little, "You alright?"

"There's – I went down into the basement. I found Kevin's parents,"

"What?"

"They're dead."

For a second or several, Seth merely stared back at him, his mouth falling open and then at once levering shut.

"How?"

"Best guess?" Roman sighed, "Shot execution style, stood up and then blown right in the head."

" _Jesus_ ," Seth gaped, swallowing a lump down as his face became ashen, "So that means – ,"

"Uh huh."

Neither man wanted or was willing to say it but the words hung there anyway like an ominous cloud.

Kevin Owens had butchered his parents.

Kevin was a murderer.

Kevin had Dean.

" _Fuck_ ," Seth ground out, before looking up suddenly, his sharp eyes blazing, "So then what're we still doing standing around here? Come on man, let's go get him the hell outta there."

It took Roman a second or two to respond to him, momentarily frozen to the spot by events. The ominous mounds of earth floated across his vision and sent a chill rippling right down through his bones. Because – okay, sure – so maybe the Owens' had been horrible but not even _they_ deserved an ending like that.

Shot to death in their very own basement at the hands of their only child.

Their own damn _son_.

"Hey," Seth barked, snapping his fingers, "You still with me?"

Roman nodded,

"Yeah."

That was it, the moment was over, a temporary lapse and the Shield man was back again. Pushing through the seats he dropped down behind the steering wheel, firing up the engine as Seth took his place on the passenger side.

 _Hold on Dean._

He repeated the words frantically.

 _Please uce, a little longer, just hold on._

They were bumping their way down the pitted and potholed driveway when Seth spoke up again, jerking up and down with the road,

"Think you can make a detour into Suplex?"

Roman frowned back at him,

"Why? You got a plan?"

"I hope so," Seth growled, one knee bouncing anxiously, "I really fucking hope so man."

* * *

 **So, does anyone know what Seth's plan is? Winners get a cookie and a pet unicorn. Answers will be revealed in the very next chapter…**

 **Also, there will be no unicorn...or cookies...sorry.**


	15. My Heart Beat Like A Hammer

**One day early, aren't I good to you? We're only another two chapters from the end now, but the action isn't over by any means, we're still firing and Dean still needs his ass saving, right?**

 **Ninjoy, Yep, Kevin is now beyond all redemption (or at least I certainly feel like he is) and don't worry, Seth's plan is a pretty damn good one plus it means we get to see a familiar face.**

 **Raze Olympus, Ooooh good guess...but...not quite, you're on the right lines with the whole** _ **previous cameo**_ **thing though, as you will see. So maybe you get half a unicorn?**

 **Mandy, Yeah, sorry, just a soupcon more tension (and then even more) but it won't last forever and ever I promise, although things** _ **do**_ **get worse before they get better for poor Dean.**

 **Minnie1015, Whoops and I'm going to be even more mean in this one because it's another Seth and Roman centric (with a guest appearance too). Still, Dean's** _ **around**_ **just not immediately available (all will become apparent I hope!)**

 **SkittlezLvr79, Haha, I love the thought of them just having a battle tank sitting under a dust sheet in the warehouse somewhere! Sadly though it isn't a tank but hopefully what it** _ **is**_ **reads better instead!**

 **AngelOfDeathOfWrestling, Yep, I thought I'd throw in a dark curve ball just the keep the anxiety levels up! There's also a bit more of that bleakness in this chapter. Did I mention that I like being kind of cruel to Dean?**

 **Skovko, Ooh, sorry, not Bo but you're right thinking that it's an old cameo popping up again. Let's face it though, we all love Bo but he would be** _ **no help at all**_ **unless he tripped over something and inadvertently brought a chandelier down on Kevin's head...hey... *goes off to re-write chapter***

 **Ohana1337, Yep, Kevin is a teddy bear no longer, instead he's a wild and crazy murderous grizzly! I kept saying he wasn't as pathetic as he seemed. Aww, thanks for the compliments, glad you liked it and I've got my fingers crossed you'll like this one too!**

 **Here comes Seth's plan!**

* * *

 **My Heart Beat Like A Hammer**

Sami Zayn was downright anxious and given what had happened he had every right to be.

Not only had he been awoken at midnight by the doorbell and some pretty frantic pounding, but he had actually gone down and _answered_ it as well, standing in amazement as the policemen from earlier had brushed right past him and let themselves inside.

Their explanations had been impossibly speedy and shot through with a desperation he hadn't heard before, but in the end it had all boiled down to one salient factor.

They were going after Kevin and for some reason, they needed him.

His answer was a resounding _never_.

No way, no how.

It wasn't going down.

Well, that was to say his _first_ answer was a never – not to mention the second and quite frankly the third – but by the time the bigger of the men had curled his fists up and advanced on him fiercely, his opinions had changed. Not that he actually _wanted_ to help them – just the name Kevin was enough to make him quake – more that he was genuinely terrified of _not_ assisting.

The two men in front of him looked ready to break heads.

He had scrambled clumsily into some sweatpants and a sweater before nervously adding socks and his trusty treads. If he was going to confront his childhood tormentor, then he needed good shoes in which he knew he could run.

His wife had been sitting up in bed as he'd charged around, squinting at him blearily in the muted lamplight. His own explanation had been pretty much a gabble, a string of random words that didn't make sense.

 _Kidnapping._

 _Police._

 _Need my help._

 _I love you._

She had merely mumbled something and then folded back down.

One of his kids had been padding across the landing and stopped at the sight of his father fully clothed. Sami had ushered him back into bed quickly, then sighed and a pressed a loving kiss down on the head, fondly brushing the sleep-ruffled bangs aside and stroking the downy hair.

What if he never came back?

He'd only just escaped from Kevin the first time and even then it had taken months to feel safe. Now he was stepping back into the lair again – borderline – _willingly_.

Clearly he'd gone insane.

Seth and Roman had been waiting for him anxiously having physically stationed themselves by the front door and the second he stepped foot off the stairs onto the tiles again, Seth's hand was at his elbow, almost _dragging_ him along.

"Come on man, let's go."

"Uh, _where_ are we going?" Sami had stuttered out, the words getting jumbled up with his tongue.

"Senton Lakes."

"What? Why?"

Seth had growled at him,

"We'll tell you on the way, now will you come _on_?"

The actual situation had been fully explained to him as he'd rattled around in the back of the van, gripping the seat cushions as the bigger man – Roman – had driven like they were being chased by some demon hound from hell. Seth had been sitting in the passenger seat in front of him, seatbelt off and turned around to face his way.

The crux of the matter – as far as he could figure it – was that their teammate and brother had been kidnapped as well, snatched away like _he_ had been by Kevin, only this _Dean_ guy seemed to be against the clock. There had been some other details – the death of Kevin's parents and something about an earpiece and a hidden microphone – but it hadn't taken long for Sami's head to start spinning and he'd had to make do with the bare bones he had.

"So what you're saying here," he wet his lips a little, trying to see if he could work it all out, "Is that you guys are going to rescue your teammate?"

Seth nodded,

"Yeah."

"Alright, then why do you need me?"

The answer was simple and airily delivered, like the entire request was no problem at all. Only it was. It was a very _big_ problem. A massive sized problem that swallowed him whole.

"We need you to try and get through to Kevin."

"I – I'm sorry, for a minute I thought you said – _what_?"

"He's not going to listen to us," Roman rumbled, narrowed eyes focused with intent on the road, "We think you might be the only person out there who he might want to talk to."

"You mean, _face to face_?"

"Hey, we'll be there man," Seth chipped in smoothly, "No way are we letting you go in there alone."

But even with the thought of both the lawmen with him the ask seemed too big and he shook his head _no_. Not that the answer really did much to help him since they were still traveling at full speed in the rickety surveillance truck. Nor could he reasonably expect them to stop for him.

They were trying to save their teammate.

Sami bailed from the van.

Or – well – at least he _tried_ to, flinging the door open and trying to dive onto the road.

"Whoa, what the fuck man?" Seth shouted angrily, grabbing the scruff of his neck with one hand. From up behind the steering wheel, Roman cursed loudly and the vehicle swayed a little as the wind whistled in, "Are you fucking crazy? What the hell's wrong with you?"

Sami trembled bodily,

"I can't – I can't see him again."

His stuttered statement quelled the swirling panic and Seth sighed back at him in weary response. Shoving the door roughly he slid it into place again and only then did he let his grip on Sami's collar loosen up,

"Look man, I know this is unfair and crappy but we're out of options here, alright? Dean's stuck there alone with that bastard and we're running out of time, he's fucking bleeding out."

"He – he what?"

"Dean took a bullet in shoulder," Roman grunted, sounding almost hoarse, "He's lost a lot of blood."

Sami blinked out through the windshield in amazement.

The situation was far worse than he'd thought.

No wonder the guys around him were so antsy.

It wasn't just a kidnapping, this thing was _life or death_.

Either somehow following his internal assessment or else just needing to generally say _stuff,_ Seth clenched his fists and bit out another statement, his tone sharp with exhaustion and ferocity all at once.

"That's why we need to get him the hell out of there. We're not losing him again, alright? I _can't_ – ,"

He broke off suddenly with a hiss of pure emotion and Roman grunted back at him gruffly,

"Easy man."

It was an interesting spectacle for Sami to witness and the moment both fuelled him and took him straight back.

Sometime not too long after _he_ had been rescued having spent four long days in Kevin's hands, he had watched back the press conference the police had called about him, midway through his captivity point. His parents had been called up to make a teary statement and just thinking about it damn near broke his heart. The pair of them had been ashen-faced, teary and _broken_ and he knew that deep down the two Shield men were the same. These big burly guys with their guns and gruff faces were like any other relatives.

They just wanted to save their friend.

"Okay," Sami breathed out shakily, "So _if_ I do this, you guys have got to promise me one thing."

Seth blinked,

"Sure man, anything, you name it."

Sami paused a second,

"I want to see him behind bars. I don't want there to be any way _ever_ that Kevin can be free to do this again. I want to know he's not out on the streets somewhere or stalking someone else."

Seth snorted,

"You got it man. That asshole's looking at a long sentence, _trust_ me."

"Provided we don't put a bullet in him first."

By rights Roman's addition should have probably made him shiver – delivered in both deep and serious tones – but in the end all Sami could do was nod back at him, not remotely unsettled,

"That's fine by me as well."

The rest of the journey to Senton was a silent one.

Well, okay, it was silent for _him_.

Seth and Roman's conversation on the other hand was constant, as they discussed points of entry, ammunition and plans. The technological whiz was busy scrolling through a tablet, scanning aerial photographs of a cabin by the lake. Sami could see glimpses of it through the headrest, but he didn't look too closely.

He mostly tried to zone out.

After his abduction he'd received _a lot_ of therapy and had taken up various mechanisms to help him cope. One of those was imagining himself on a beach somewhere, with no one else around and a warm breeze in his hair. If he thought about it hard enough, he could even hear the ocean and _feel_ the wet sands sinking in around his toes. There were sandcastles on the shoreline, but – like – really _big_ ones that he could physically visit and walk around inside. The sun was warm and restorative and refreshing.

He honestly didn't want to ever wake back up.

"Hey man," Seth's voice broke in at him suddenly, accompanied by a none-too-gentle little shove, "We're here, you good?"

Sami blinked at him dazedly, the world both cold and unwelcomingly dark again.

Through the windshield in the distance he could see a log cabin, lit up by the dazzling full moon light. It glinted on a wide expanse of water in the background and his stomach flipped over.

 _Oh god_.

They'd arrived.

Instantly his system froze up in terror and so just climbing from the vehicle proved a pretty tough ask. His legs were shaking, his arms felt heavy and every last part of him felt worryingly _alive_. He could hear every rustle in the trees hung up above them, he could hear the passing whispers on the wind, he could taste the scent of danger coming in closer and he could feel his feet tensing, getting ready to run off.

Clearly still considering him a flight risk – and really, on that point, he wasn't all wrong – Seth grabbed hold of Sami's arm firmly and pulled him behind them,

"Hey, stay close."

"Get down and keep behind us," Roman added gruffly, as if he thought that highlighting the danger might help, "If anything happens, you get to some cover and stay low until we tell you it's safe to move again."

"You think – ," Sami stuttered, not even _wanting_ to ask the question but driven by an impulse he didn't know he had, "You think Kevin might have a _gun_ or something in there?"

Seth and Roman shared a look between them,

"Actually? We kinda know he does."

"So what? You guys just _forgot_ to tell me that part? Don't you think a heads up might've been nice?"

Seth shrugged absently, creeping closer through the greenery, his eyes on the building,

"You already bailed once."

"Yeah but that was – ,"

" _Sssh_ ," Roman grunted, "You need to keep your voice down man."

Sami huffed angrily but didn't say anything.

After all, the guy was right.

They were almost directly _on top_ of the cabin and realizing it, Sami winced and dropped down his head. The thought that Kevin was possibly somewhere _in_ there – the Kevin he hadn't seen for over ten years – made him feel nauseous and stupidly dizzy although he managed not to faint as they made it to the stairs.

Seth went first, taking each step carefully and then flattening himself and hunkering low against the wall. There was a light on inside, the glow splashing through the window and Seth glanced at Roman and then slowly raised his head.

Sami held his breath.

Seth was looking _through_ the window.

What if Kevin saw him?

What if he shot?

Luckily however, neither of those things happened and after what seemed like a _month_ of observation but was probably only a second and no more, the younger man looked back with a quick head shake, his expression all business.

 _No one's home._

In an instant Roman was swiftly on the move again, uncurling from his hunched and cautious crouch beside the stairs. Sami – who had been squatted and trembling beside him – followed him like a shadow, his heartbeat in his throat. At that point he wasn't sure if the Shield man had remembered him or if the two of them were simply in taskforce _game mode_. Was he even _supposed_ to be shadowing their actions or had the plan simply been for him to stay where he was?

That question however was answered – still silently – as Roman reached out and quickly pulled him in close, pushing him almost to his knees beneath the window and then gesturing for him to stay there.

As if Sami could move.

Reaching up a gloved hand, Seth pushed the front door open and then the three of them held their breath and waited for a noise.

Nothing.

There was nothing.

Not a sound, not a movement and so – after sharing another look with his teammate – the younger man aimed, took a breath and stepped in.

 _Wow_.

In many ways the entry was an impressive manoeuvre and just like the ones Sami watched on TV. Seth kept low and made sure to move quickly and after a beat Roman followed him in, both of them stepping without flinching into the lion's den and taking his breath away.

These were brave men.

"Sami, get in here."

Reluctantly he tailed them, peeking around the doorframe still on his hands and knees. Both men were standing up and peering down quizzically and clearing his throat a little, Sami scrambled up, swiping the dust off his pants in embarrassment and shrugging a little,

"I – uh – I thought you said _keep down_."

Seth nodded and patted his shoulder lightly, seeing the tremors,

"You're doing fine man."

Searching the rest of the cabin took seconds because it only comprised of four single-storey rooms. The open plan kitchen, living and dining space, two small bedrooms and then a compact little bath. There was another door though, positioned by the fireplace and they all of them knew where it lead.

Straight down.

The thought of descending back into a basement – any basement but especially one Kevin Owens owned – suddenly struck Sami so hard that he whimpered although fortunately he managed to turn it into a tiny cough.

Seth glanced back at him but couldn't spare his attentions because Roman was opening the door and descending down.

"You wanna stay up here?"

Sami paused briefly, debating the merits and then shaking his head. If Kevin was out and due back at any moment then the safest place he could think of was being close to them.

"N-no, I-I'm alright, I-I'll stick with you guys."

Seth nodded simply,

"It'll be alright man."

The basement – when they got there – was such an anti-climax that Sami couldn't help but feel bitter about the fact.

There was no Kevin Owens.

No shot and tortured teammate.

In fact there wasn't _anything_ much except despair.

Around him he could feel Seth and Roman exhale noisily and the younger man's shoulders drooped in what was clearly building rage. Running his hands through his hair he kicked the concrete and whipped up a cloud of dust,

"God _damn it_ , they're not here."

"No," Roman ground back darkly, "But they have been."

By way of explanation he gestured to a dining chair, sitting a little way adrift from the door. Around it there was a loose scattering of objects and the two policemen silently went over to take a look. Sami followed them – about a step behind them – then peered over their shoulders as they sorted through the odds.

Paper towels and tape stared ominously back up at him, covered in deep red markings.

 _Oh_.

"Th-that's a lot of blood."

"Yeah," Seth spat bitterly, sucking a deep breath in, "Yeah, you're telling me it is."

"Look," Roman rumbled in strained tones, "We'll _find_ him."

"Really?" Seth snapped back, "Alright man, _where_?"

The bigger of the two narrowed his eyes back a little, as if he didn't appreciate being spoken to that way. Sami breathed sharply, sensing a stab of tension.

The last thing he needed was them scrapping on the floor.

Luckily however – or well, not luckily, desperately _unluckily_ – the floor creaked up above, a sprinkling of dust drifting down from the rafters as a heavy pair of boots plodded in across the lounge.

"Oh god, oh no," Sami gaped in horror, "That's him isn't it? Th-that's Kevin. Oh – oh no."

Seth hissed back at him harshly,

" _Calm down man_."

But there was absolutely no way that instruction was going to work, because the more he tried to even out his breathing, the more frenetic the desperate gulps became, tearing through his mouth and nose with such traction that his vision started swimming and his lungs began to _hurt_. All the while the footsteps moved closer until they were right on the threshold of the upstairs basement door.

Sami nearly passed out completely.

Then Seth slapped him across the cheekbone, _hard_ ,

" _Hey_ , snap out of it."

Sami blinked,

"You _hit_ me."

"You're no good to us freaking out man."

"But I – ,"

" _Quiet_."

Roman pushed him back, interrupting the babble of confusion and forcing him into the far corner of the room. The shadows there were longer and Sami melted into them, feeling them cocoon him and shelter him from harm.

Seth and Roman stayed out in the room's centre and as Kevin wandered in through the doorway, both men instantly and simultaneously raised their guns.

"Hold it," Seth ordered, "Where is he? Where's Dean? What have you done with him?"

Kevin blinked back, clearly not able to fully process their appearance and shaking his head like he was possibly seeing things.

"What are you – _how_ are you – _no_ ," he barked angrily, his cheeks flushing puce with frustration, "Get _out_."

"Not until we get Dean. Where is he?"

Kevin twitched,

"He can't hurt anyone else now."

The sentence flooded all of them with horror.

What in the world was that supposed to mean?

It sounded almost _final_ and unusually _past tense_ , like he had maybe – like he had maybe –

Roman seethed at him furiously,

" _Where_?"

It was fast becoming apparent to all of them that the three men were getting nowhere fast. Evidently just the _sight_ of Seth and Roman in the basement was enough to turn Kevin into a bubbling pot of rage and it was clear that there was no way in hell – or frankly otherwise – that the psychopathic loner was going to give them anything they might want.

Someone needed to switch up their tactics.

That someone was Sami.

He stepped forward and coughed,

"Kevin?"

Instantly the entire room froze again and the chubby villain's eyes swung hurriedly his way. Feeling the piggy little eyes squaring in on him was almost more than Sami could bear and not for the first time he wondered what he was doing as his body trembled violently,

"S-Sami, i-is that you?"

It was strange to see the transition in Kevin, from toxic screw-loose outlaw to wide-eyed little child. Not that the sight was a new one to Sami – in those four days he'd seen it a lot – but over the years he had forgotten it's rapidity and as the chubby man stepped forward, the ex-captive stepped back.

"Y-yeah," Sami ground out, watching Seth move sideways, the gun still held high, cutting him off, "It's me."

"I thought they'd – they'd poisoned you against me?"

Kevin seemed enraptured, Sami swallowed.

"They did."

"Then how did you – why are you – ,"

Sami moved closer, affecting a sense of longing but saying tucked behind Seth,

"I realized that you were telling the truth Kevin, you _are_ my best friend, you always were man."

Kevin's eyes bugged out almost wildly and his head bounced frantically up and then down, almost like the damn thing was working on a metronome and he couldn't control it.

It was like some wet dream.

Seth and Roman were still tense in front of him, but neither of them were moving and both men were armed. Kevin on the other hand, seemed to be without a weapon, although as he spun slightly, Sami saw a firearm lodged in the back of his waistband.

 _Crap._

He wondered briefly if he should tell the two Shield men, but based on the way their muscles twitched, he figured they too had seen. His best course of action was to just press onwards and so he wet his lips again and tried to get them what they would need.

"That's why I had to come here and find you."

Kevin nodded,

"Best friends – you and me."

 _Oh dear god._

"That's right Kevin," Sami had never been more frightened, ever, "We don't _need_ anyone else, do we partner? All we need is you, me and Dean."

There was a small jolt as Kevin's head jerked up slightly, almost like the other man had kicked him in the guts. His elated gaze narrowed into something half-baffled and he stumbled a reply out uncertainly,

"Dean?"

"Uh huh, Dean. He's our _other_ best friend. Don't you remember Kevin? Don't you remember Dean?"

"I – ," Owens faltered, shaking his head a little, like a child who'd done wrong, "I didn't – ,"

" _Where's Dean_?"

The answer came out in a sudden rush of openness as Kevin hiccuped nervously and even wrung his damn hands,

"D-don't be mad," he spluttered out clumsily, "I – I buried him."

Roman exhaled,

" _What_?"

"He's _dead_?" Seth stumbled and their voices _broke_ Sami, who couldn't cope with the levels of devastation they contained, "No, he's not dead – fuck _no_ – he fucking _can't_ be."

Sami bit his lip,

"My god Kevin, you killed him?"

The bigger man shook his head resolutely and adopted a look a little like they were mad,

"No, you can't – you can't kill a demon, you just gotta bury them."

 _That_ was new.

"Huh?"

" _Wait_ ," Seth barked, "Hold up, you _didn't_ kill him?"

"I buried him," Kevin repeated, "I buried him deep down."

" _Where_?" Roman growled and the noise was so primal that even _Sami_ took a hasty step back. Kevin however wasn't playing with his rivals and simply curled his fists at them,

"Never you mind."

"Kevin," Sami intoned evenly – a whole hell of a lot more evenly than he felt, "Don't you want poor Dean to be with us? Don't you want us _both_ to be your friends?"

The nod the larger man gave was pathetic.

Geez.

He really _was_ an overgrown child.

"Yes."

"Okay, so _where_ – where is he buried? We need to get him out. We need to save our _best friend_."

The final words seemed to give the push that was needed, because suddenly Kevin was all smiles again, acting like the three of them were off to buy a puppy rather than rescue a trapped and dying man.

"He's down on the shoreline, by the boat – the ground's soft there."

Seth and Roman responded at once, moving towards the captor like they'd been released from deep stasis and making him back up.

The child disappeared.

" _No_ ," Kevin shouted, his face clouding over as he fumbled for the gun at his back, "He's _not_ for you."

Sami held his breath but the Shield men were quicker and so as the kidnapper pulled the weapon free, Roman fired at his arm.

The noise of the gunshot echoed all around them and almost blew Sami's eardrums clean out but the effect it had on Kevin was far more dramatic and as the chubby loner caterwauled, Roman moved in.

"Hands where I can see them."

Kevin ignored him.

Then again – Sami reasoned – he _was_ in a lot of pain.

Evidently the bullet had travelled straight through Kevin's bicep, charting a path through it and then right out again. The gun hung limply in his blood coated fingers and so with one quick swipe, Roman was able to knock it out. In response, Kevin swung his free arm up angrily but Roman ducked it and punched his nemesis in the head, reeling back his fist and slamming it into his cheekbone with a ferocity that wasn't solely just to keep the man down.

As Kevin's head snapped back, Seth jammed some cuffs on, skilfully looping one around the man's wrist. Once again Kevin swung out in a fury, but Roman caught the fist and twisted his arm back up and round.

"No," Kevin screamed, kicking out hotly and trying to hit any part of them he could, "No, they're _mine_ , Sami and Dean are _my_ friends. You can't have them."

"Sit your ass down."

The order came from Roman and was accompanied by a boot heel that caught him in the kneecaps and sent him toppling straight down. He was crying and kicking them but with a grunt of exertion, Seth and Roman dragged him back towards a post, looping his flailing arms round the sturdy pillar and then snapping the second cuff on and clicking them both in tight.

" _Fuck_."

Once he was secured, the pair fell away from him, panting and sweating.

But the job was half done.

"Come on," Seth barked, stumbling to his feet again in what was essentially a dead sprint for the door. Roman followed him, stooping to pick the gun up and Sami staggered after them frantically,

"Hey guys, wait up."

"Sami?" Kevin whimpered, the child having won again, "Don't leave, I – I don't like it down here."

Sami kept going, his eyes on the staircase.

He didn't flinch and he didn't look back.

* * *

 **So, yeah, buried alive then. No going back on the Kevin Crazy Train now!**


	16. Over My Head

**Alright, alright, I've kept you waiting long enough...back to Dean!**

 **Minnie1015, Don't worry, for your excellent guessing skills I will give you a cookie anyway because, hey, I'm a nice person (except for when I'm mercilessly beating on Dean in my stories that is!) Big yes. I've got lots more to post and plenty of ideas bubbling as well. Don't know what's happened to me lately, just can't stop writing!**

 **Ninjoy, Believe it or not that wasn't going to be his fate until I saw someone try it on a show and it kind of stuck with me and it became what happened but yeah, I** _ **definitely**_ **never want to try it out. Good old Sami. I loved writing him and Bo in this one. Okay, mostly Bo. But Sami was cool too!**

 **Mandy, Aww, but all good things must come to an end, right? Possibly a third but that might be a while although I'm working on a series of shorts for this universe and toying with requests so we're not done with this world yet!**

 **Debwood-1999, Hey traveler, welcome back! Glad you liked my little island and especially London (I'm right outside there, close enough to go into but out in the countryside). Yeah, poor old Dean. He is** _ **at least**_ **due a vacation by rights but he could never leave his guys for too long. I mean, how would they cope?! Saving him gives them something to do after all!**

 **SkittlezLvr79, Oh don't worry, I know all about long days at work so I totally sympathize. Thank you for leaving any review at all instead of collapsing into bed. I appreciate it! As for the twist, yeah, I thought for one final fling I would put Dean through the wringer in a** _ **big**_ **way. Sorry Dean!**

 **Wwe21, Don't worry, I never leave you guys hanging for too long! So here we go, the big reveal!**

 **Skovko, Well, not that Sami had much of a choice in it, but yeah, he was a super brave boy and I told him so as well. Of course in** _ **real life**_ **he would have turned on both of them and sided with Kevin (damn it) but thankfully not here!**

 **Raze Olympus, Ooh, super glad you thought it was one of the best chapters. It's so difficult to tell when you're writing them, you've just gotta hope for the best! Yep, not much time left for Dean now but Seth and Roman can run really fast!**

 **Guest, I know, I'm pretty sure this is cruelest I've been to poor old Dean yet and as for Kevin, I think the kiddie side of him is sympathetic but the super crazy villain side? Hmm. Not so much!**

 **Ohana1337, Yep, poor old Sami did need a bit of sense slapped into him for a moment. Not that I was** _ **too**_ **harsh on him for freaking out. In the same situation I would definitely be a Sami as opposed to a Roman or a Dean. I love their protective vibes too, it's an addiction. Hoping with the reunion back on track on TV that we'll get some more in real life too!**

 **Come on then everyone, let's do this thing!**

* * *

 **Over My Head**

Ever since Dean had been flung into the coffin, his head had been everywhere and nowhere at once. Firstly where had Kevin even managed to _get_ a coffin?

Did he make them?

Did he have a _backlog_ lying around?

At some point after he had ripped out Dean's earpiece and then ranted and raved and spouted a little more, he had grabbed up a shovel and gone stomping from the basement, returning an hour later covered head to toe in mud.

Realistically, Dean had known what was coming – it didn't exactly take a genius to figure out – but somehow the idea had seemed so _unreasonable_ that he had basically dismissed it.

Kevin wasn't going to _bury him alive_.

Except he fucking had.

Lock, stock and barrel.

Kevin had dug a hole and dropped him in the ground.

He had put the gun – _his_ gun – to Dean's forehead and slowly removed the tightly cinched cuffs, at first keeping Dean's feet wrapped tight to the chair legs so that he couldn't run off as he freed the arms then snapped the binds back on. The fact that Kevin had wanted to move him had been at once a relief and a horrible lurch. A beautiful chance to get his limbs moving but in a totally fucking helpless march to his death.

He'd stumbled a little as Kevin had pulled him upright, using his injured arm to angrily yank him up. He'd been rambling as he did it – pulling Dean up the staircase – about demons and sinfulness and his unendingly shitty childhood, the gun still hovering at the back of Dean's skull.

 _Fuck, fuck, fuck._

Dean's brain had screamed at him.

 _Do something Ambrose, do something._

What?

His consciousness had been starting to swim in and out on him even before they'd made it to the shore, the adrenaline and blood loss and sudden change in altitude from sitting to standing messing with his head. He had stumbled on loose rocks and sand dunes, grumbling roughly,

" _Kevin, don't do this man, we're friends, okay? We're friends_."

At one point he had even managed to suddenly kick his legs out bringing the pair of them down with a heavy thud. Unfortunately however, Kevin had landed _on_ him and so his final attempt at some sort of escape plan had not only failed, it had gone horribly wrong.

He'd even tried shouting, but Kevin had stifled him, slapping a big firm paw across his mouth.

" _If I have to shoot you Dean, I'll do it. I know it's the demon, but I will kill you as well_."

After that episode – and being jerked upright – Dean had apparently and helpfully passed out, waking up just as his body was roughly rolled over and blinking unsteadily as he hit something hard.

 _Huh?_

He was lying in a small and cramped little container, staring up at Kevin with his arms still pinned behind his back. It took him a while to work out what was happening and why Kevin was so much higher than he was.

When realization came however, it came with a lurch.

He was in a fucking _coffin_ in the ground.

"Kevin, no, for fucks sake – this is crazy. I don't have a demon inside of me, alright man? Don't got one, y' hear? This right here is fuckin' _murder_. God fuckin' damn it – _somebody help_."

When Kevin had gone to press the lid down on him, Dean had kicked up with all the strength he had left. It hadn't done much except make the big guy angry and a boot had thumped down on him and driven the air out.

 _Shit._

By the time he had managed to regulate his breathing, the lid was down and there was something placed on top and try as he might, Dean couldn't push it off again or even shift it slightly.

He was totally trapped.

He had continued shouting as the earth had thudded down on him, peppering the coffin lid like a heavy shower of rain.

But it wasn't rain.

It wasn't even close to it.

It was his death knell and he shouted and yelled until he was hoarse.

During the year in which he'd been without his teammates, Dean had watched _a lot_ of TV, mostly documentaries and wildlife programmes, but some science shows too and all that myth-busting stuff. At some point on one of them, somebody had tried it – someone had offered to be buried alive. From that they had worked out that if you stayed still enough then the oxygen was likely to last over an hour, but that if you struggled and tried to get out of there, you maybe only had fifteen minutes at best.

At the time, Dean had thought it was kind of redundant.

Who in the hell got buried alive?

But the moment it had become the limited horizon of his future, he had thought back to his options and come up feeling numb.

Which of those choices was the best one to go with?

Did he kick and scream and try to fight out? Fighting – in any event – was definitely his preference but if he failed at it miserably then it meant he would rob himself of those long precious minutes in which his teammates could arrive.

 _Fuck._

Think Ambrose, think about it carefully.

 _What the fuck are you going to do?_

By the time he decided that he _would_ try to fight it, the oxygen already felt pretty damn thin and the knowledge elevated his already hammering heartbeat until he felt weirdly dizzy and nauseous again. Bright little stars lit up in his vision and the limited air around him fast grew hot. His breathing was creating a haze of condensation and it painted sweat on him and made the whole thing feel worse.

Briefly – as it nearly always did in life or death times – Dean felt his mind drifting straight back to _her_. Sometimes just lately he was worried he couldn't picture her, but on the fringes of mortality he could see her just fine. She was laughing at him, her hands on her hip bones and chiding him like a mother lamenting her wayward child's scrape.

As usual, the thought of being with her was a comfort.

He didn't _want_ to die.

But what choice did he have?

Somewhere in the real world – up above his casket – he knew Seth and Roman would be out on the hunt and knowing that they might find him far too late to help him was the worst fucking part of it. The poor bastards would be crushed. The few months they had spent back together had been brilliant and it was a shame he would probably never get to tell them that.

He wanted to tell them that they were his brothers.

That they were his family.

That he – well – _loved_ them.

All that kinda junk.

Not that it mattered, not that _anything_ mattered and he kicked at the coffin lid and then let out a breathless choke.

"Fuck."

That was it then, he was officially dying.

His shoulder was still oozing.

The air was getting thin.

To be honest he felt so god damn dizzy that the comprehension of it almost got lost in the mire and so did the faint but frantic _scratching_ sounds which slowly seemed to filter down at him from above.

Rats?

Just his luck if he didn't get eaten.

His eyes flickered shut and time seemed to stand still.

"Dean?"

He blinked, the voice was familiar and desperate but also oddly _pleading_ all at once. Dean frowned a little, his poor brain spinning and he coughed and forced the words out wearily,

" _Wha_ – Seth?"

More sounds came down at him, but they were ghostly and dreamlike and he vaguely dismissed them –

Until the lid was wrenched off.

A blast of cold fresh air rushed in over him and his body contracted at the suddenness and force, his airways widening and filling almost painfully as arms came down around him and roughly pulled him up.

"Dean? Fuck. _Dean_."

He gasped and flopped sideways, landing up heavily against somebody's chest. His head rolled down and pillowed on a shoulder and as his senses came screaming back to him, he recognized the smell. It was warm and familiar and laced through with musky aftershave and as long dark hair tickled him, he coughed the name out.

"R'man?"

"Don't worry, I'm here."

Seth sighed somewhere,

" _Jesus_."

"It's okay, we've got you. We've got you uce – you're okay now, it's fine."

His eyesight – or at least, an understanding of his surroundings – was probably the very last thing to return and Dean blinked unsteadily, focusing hard on the faces as both Seth and Roman fell into his cloudy view. They were down in the shallow grave, crouched alongside him, with Seth hunched in front of him and Roman draped around his back.

"Fuck," Dean croaked, as full disclosure came flooding back to him, his whole awareness lifting, "You guys took your fuckin' time."

Seth snorted wryly and Roman dropped his head down, burying it fondly in the crook of Dean's neck.

"Yeah," he rumbled, "Sorry, there was traffic."

"You guys stop off and have a bite to eat or somethin'?"

"I'm a big guy," Roman smiled at him, shrugging, "When I'm hungry, I'm hungry. You know how it is."

In hindsight what Dean should _probably_ have been saying were the heartfelt declarations he'd been desperate to express, but in the moment – safe – they didn't seem relevant.

His brothers had saved him.

What was that if not love?

Leaning forwards, Seth passed Roman something and Dean was relieved to see a jingling cuff key, glinting in the moonlight and promising his freedom. Roman reacted to seeing it with a frown,

"When did you get that?"

"When we were fixing him to the post just now."

By _him_ of course, his teammate more than likely meant Kevin and the knowledge shot through Dean's bones and made him tense up,

"You guys get 'im?"

Roman nodded slowly,

"Yeah, we got him."

"Roman shot him."

"Oh yeah?"

"Clipped him on the arm," the Big Dog growled ruefully, "Was aiming for his head."

"Trust me, arm fuckin' _hurts_."

As Roman set about releasing the handcuffs which Dean could not fucking _wait_ to get off, Seth was slowly peeling up the duct tape, inching back the spoiled towels and making Dean wince,

"Sorry man, I gotta take a look here."

Judging by his reaction, the wound was not pretty and no sooner had Seth peeled the bandage up off him, than he was quickly and gently patting it back down, Dean's attentions thankfully diverting as the cuffs fell away from him and allowed his arms to drop.

"Fuck."

"You okay?" Roman asked worriedly, massaging Dean's shoulder blades,

"Uh huh, feels fuckin' _good_."

For a moment the three of them sat together in silence, touching each other some way and somehow. To a man they were wearied, partly shell-shocked and fucking _terrified_ by the fact that they had come _so close_ to losing out. The knowledge of it hit Dean suddenly and violently and he sucked a shaky breath in and bit down a _not-him_ sob. Instantly Roman's arms tightened around him and he rocked him gently, ever-so-lightly, back and forth.

"Easy babe, easy now, we got you."

Dean fought it down.

He was better than that.

"Come on," Seth ground out, after a moment when his brother had managed to get things under control. Reaching across, he softly palmed Dean's hair back, sweeping the sticky locks up out of his face, "What do you say we get you the fuck outta here?"

Dean licked his dry lips,

"I need a fuckin' drink. No more Swiss vodka though – stuff nearly killed me, could go for a beer."

Roman rolled his eyes,

"You're going to a hospital Dean, no arguments."

"Come on man, I nearly _died_ – you can't buy me one fuckin' beer?"

Roman pushed him forwards,

"Maybe later."

"Fine, but you'd better believe I'm a' hold you to that."

With Seth in front levering him up by his elbows and Roman's hands around his waist, Dean stood shakily on atrophied muscles, a fucking _legion_ of pins-and-needles marching through his legs. He swore a little, but kept on moving, his tired fingers fumbling the lip of the grave.

He was vaguely wondering how he was supposed to make it up there when a _third_ face suddenly fell into view, inserting itself breathlessly into the process and so suddenly that Dean jerked and almost toppled back.

"What the – ,"

The newcomer instantly seized his wrist up, keeping him steady and holding out his other hand.

"Hey man, _geez_ , I'm so glad you're still breathing."

Dean blinked back up at him,

"Uh – yeah – same I guess."

"Dean, this is Sami," Seth offered airily, turning and scrambling up out of the hole, leaning over to recapture his brother's elbow as Roman caught Dean's boot sole and propelled his teammate up. The ascent was faster than Dean had been expecting and his head swung with it like he was tripping,

"Fuck, _whoa_."

Luckily Sami and Seth had tight hold of him and together they guided his ass up over the edge. Roman swung himself up easily after him and then dropped down to hover at Dean's side. His eyes grazed the bullet wound then looked up quickly as he and Seth shared an agreeing micro-nod.

Dean however wasn't paying attention.

He was still digesting who the newcomer was.

"So you're the poor fucker that Kevin kidnapped first, huh?"

Sami chuckled nervously,

"Uh, _yep_ , I guess that's me."

" _Four days_ ," Dean shook his head, "That's heavy."

Sami shrugged at him,

"Come on man, you were _buried alive_ out here. I think, in hindsight, I prefer my kidnap better, which honestly isn't a sentence I ever thought I'd say."

Dean smiled broadly.

He kinda liked this Sami.

Then Roman tweaked his shoulder and he bit a curse out.

" _Fuck_."

"Sorry uce. Come on, we need to get moving, get that shoulder seen to and sewn back up."

Roman was apparently in full-on, no nonsense _dad mode_ and figuring it wise to go along with it, Dean let himself be levered back up, bracing himself pretty heavily against his teammates and rising to a full stand with a wildly swinging head.

"Whoa."

His vision was spotting and he stumbled into Roman, dropping his head down.

"Alright uce, easy now."

They shuffled in a sort of slow-stumble to the surveillance van, with Sami in the background on the phone to the police. Seth meanwhile was putting a call in to Stephanie, his own cell wedged between his shoulder and his cheek.

"No Steph, _shot_ , as in hit by a bullet – in the shoulder – no, no, we've got him right here – ,"

Dean grinned lazily, looking across at Roman who in turn snorted back at him.

Neither man envied Seth.

"How were we supposed to know he was going to fucking _kidnap_ him? No I'm not shouting – you're shouting at _me_ – ,"

Rolling his eyes, Dean idly snatched the phone up, reaching across with his remaining good arm. Stephanie was still grousing shrilly across the line at them and so without any preamble he interrupted her right back,

"Hey boss, how's it goin'?"

There was a short pause,

" _Ambrose_?"

"In the flesh, or, well, _most_ of it, a bunch on my shoulder's kinda _gone_."

" _Are you alright_?"

Dean halted vaguely, caught unawares by the genuine worry in her tone. It was no great secret that the pair of them _had_ something – a weird sort of maternal, familial bond – but mostly they spent their time bitching and fighting.

It was weird to hear the Commissioner sounding quiet and concerned.

"Will be," Dean croaked, "Might need a shrink for this one."

" _You'll have the very best person we've got_."

"Blonde, make sure she's got long legs."

There was a sigh down the line which wasn't as amused as he was – or Roman or Seth, who were grinning in kind – before Stephanie regained a modicum of composure and intoned a strict order.

" _You're gonna have one anyway_."

"Figured I might."

" _Ambrose? Listen, I'm glad you're alright_."

Dean snorted back at her,

"M' always alright."

" _Of course, I know_."

"Wanna speak to Seth now?"

" _Put him back on_."

Dean grinned widely,

"Nope."

Then, with a click, he cut their boss off again and tossed the cell phone back towards his brother with a wink. The gesture earned him a sigh of resignation but also a chuckle and an amused head shake,

"Man, she's gonna make you pay for that."

"She makes me pay for _everythin'_ remember? That's just a lil' somethin' else to chalk up."

By the time Seth had tucked his phone safely away again, the four of them were slowly shuffling past the house, sitting in the moonlight like a regular little cabin without a hint of the trauma that had taken place beneath. Dean watched it slide by curiously as he stumbled, quirking his head and trying to work out how he felt,

"Babe?" Roman asked carefully, "Something the matter?"

Seth was more succinct,

"You freaking out?"

"No," Dean blinked, a tremor rippling through him which could have been from shock, blood loss or about twenty other things, "Nah, m' good, just wanna get the fuck outta here."

Roman _hummed_ at him,

"Uh huh, easy, we are."

"You got him though?" Dean asked, suddenly panicky, "Like, Kevin's taken care of? Not goin' anywhere right?"

"Nowhere uce," Roman soothed, "We got him."

Seth patted his shoulder,

"I'll go check, if you like."

"Me too," Sami put in from behind them and Dean jumped a little, having completely forgotten he was there, "Need to make sure that son of a bitch stays down this time. Going to watch him until the police have him locked up good and tight."

Together he and Seth moved off towards the cabin and as Roman stood and watched them, he absently passed across Dean's gun.

"Here."

Dean snorted wryly,

"Think I might need a new one – can't look at it the same way after it's been held against my head all night. Sounds kinda silly, huh?"

"Not at all," Roman answered, easing him onwards and coaxing him towards the van, "Not at all uce. We can get you a new one."

"With pearl grips and cool engravin'?"

Roman chuckled,

"Maybe, yeah."

"Hey Roman?" Dean stopped suddenly, one hand on the door latch, newly serious.

"You okay? What's wrong?"

"I just – I just kinda wanted to _say_ something. I'll say it to Seth too but I – I wanna say it now."

Roman frowned, a little bewildered, but gazed back easily and nodded all the same,

"Okay, sure, go for it brother."

 _Brother._

Dean heaved a breath out.

"I fuckin' love you guys, that's all."

For a second there was a deeply awkward sort of silence and then – just as Dean was about to try and deny the words – Roman tipped him forwards into a hug, trying to avoid his teammate's wounded shoulder but at the same time offering up his very tightest grip. They stayed like that for what felt like an hour, but was probably only seconds at the most, then Roman palmed his head,

"Love you too uce, don't ever forget that, this family just don't work without you."

Dean _hummed_ back, the noise not really a reply to him or a question but something deeply contented instead. Taking a long breath, he let his eyes slide shut again, his muscles relaxing.

He did.

He really did.

He loved his fucking team with everything inside of him and what was more – what was _better_ – they loved him right back.

* * *

 **See? Happy endings all round. Well, okay, not for Kevin but that guy deserves what he gets at this point! One last chapter to come and then a note about future plans for this little AU world. See you there...**


	17. The Chain

**Okay, no point sitting on this last chapter any longer, so here it is! For anyone interested in what I'm planning next for this AU world, please see the bottom as well.**

 **SkittlezLvr79, Aww, thank you for the compliments. I love writing and it's always lovely to get nice reviews and feel you've done something to maybe be a little bit proud of. Thank you also for always being there letting me know what you think. See you next time?!**

 **Mandy, Whoop whoop, another one almost over and as usual you have been a wonderful and faithful reviewer! Yeah, little bit of Smokin' Hot Aunt just for you and just to show she cares about Dean. Got that one-shot coming up for you shortly, so see the bottom of the page for details!**

 **Raze Olympus, Haha, that review certainly made me laugh but I'm glad you're excited that Dean is all safe and sound! Thank you for reviewing and following me all around in my mad writings. See you for the next one I hope!**

 **Ohana1337, Oh wow, thank you for such a lovely review. I'm kind of blushing a little bit. I'm glad that my writing resonates with you so much. I really do put my heart and soul into it and agonize over every last word but it makes me happy too, especially when others get so into it and enjoy it as well. Hope you enjoy 'Who Do You Love' (longest story I've ever written in my life) and thank you, thank you for always reviewing and making me feel like I'm doing something right!**

 **Ninjoy, Would I be so cruel as to kill Dean? He's too cute and fluffy to do much more than just rough up! Yeah, good old Sami, taking it all in his stride bless him! Shield is back and better than ever now (on TV and in my stories, so life it good!) Thank you again for reviewing every chapter too and always making me grin with your comments and thoughts. Means a lot. Until next time then…**

 **Minnie1015, Well, good news, not only the next (and final) chapter but also some info. on this little AU world and more things I've written for it. Always Dean centric though because, well, can't help it. Anyway, if you have any ideas of something you want to see read below and let me know (that wasn't supposed to rhyme but I'm actually pretty pleased it did!) Thanks for taking a chance on this story and reviewing for me as well. Appreciate it lots and lots!**

 **Skovko, You know me, I can always fit in a giggle or two somewhere! As ever, thank you for being there without fail every chapter and cheering me on and guessing what's going to happen! In gratitude (and because you begged me) the 'Crocodile Farm' one-shot will be the first one I post (see bottom for details). See you there!**

 **Okay then, one last time!**

* * *

 **The Chain**

Suplex Penitentiary was one of those buildings that lobbyists were trying hard to destroy.

According to them it was no longer fit for purpose, having been built almost one hundred long years ago. It was a grand old building – nobody denied it's pedigree – created in dark hued ironstone blocks and designed with battlements and actual _turrets_ like a fairy-tale castle.

That was one of the nay-sayers points.

Protesters had declared the designer _no longer_ _functional_ , stating it far too cold and too cramped. Prisoners shared cells that weren't fit for animals.

But Kevin Owens wasn't an animal.

Nor was he quite a man.

In short, Dean didn't care _where_ the hell his stalker was, just so long as he was locked the fuck up and although he had managed to be a little more eloquent, he had pretty much said the same thing at the trial. Sami had been there too, to put forward his own statement and on one point he and Dean had totally concurred.

Kevin needed to be locked up indefinitely.

Rehabilitation simply wouldn't work.

If it had just been a case of kidnap and attempted murder, then the judge might actually have been minded to be kind, after all, Kevin volunteered with _homeless_ people and had held his job down without fault for ten years. In person he seemed like any other awkward loner –

But he'd murdered his folks.

There was no coming back from that.

Thanks to Sergeant Jericho and his team's handiwork, traces of Kevin's parents' blood and hair fibres had been found in the tread of a pair of his shoes and combined with his icy and grim-faced silence on the matter, his guilt was all but certain.

Kevin Owens had been going down.

His lawyer – state appointed, he hadn't cared to get his own one – had tried to pin it all on his fragile state of mind, blaming a rough childhood and lack of socialization but fortunately the judge had called _bullshit_ on that. The final sentence had been ninety years without parole, which had essentially added up to life behind bars. There had been talk, for a while, of placement in a psych ward but for the most part Kevin was too _normal_ for that. His moods swung wildly between childlike and furious but he wasn't certifiable.

Dean was glad of that.

Kevin Owens _deserved_ to spend his life in prison, not in a nice bed on a big airy ward. It was part of the reason that Dean wanted to visit, to _know_ he was in there and to see it for himself. He'd had to wait several months to get the green light, but when permission had been granted, he reached out and took it with both hands.

Not that everyone agreed with his plan.

Two men in particular were decidedly unsure.

"You sure about this uce?" Roman asked for a third time, as the penitentiary gates opened up. The craggy old building was looming up in front of them and Seth let out a whistle from where he was leant in between the seats, "We can always turn around. You don't have to go in there."

Dean clipped his belt off,

"I know, I _want_ to man."

"Yeah, we _know_ you do, what we don't get is why?"

As usual Seth was straight to the point of things, speaking for the both of them without stopping to check. The fact that Roman didn't correct him seemed to imply he'd hit the nail on the head and Dean rolled his eyes and grumbled a little,

"I dunno, I just wanna see him kinda _broken_ alright?"

"Huh?" Seth blinked, "What the hell does that mean?"

Roman glanced across at him curiously,

"Babe?"

 _Damn._

Dean was really hoping not to get into it. Why had they insisted on coming along? Well, he knew _exactly_ why there were there with him, because they were his family and they would never let him go alone. At the same time though, it didn't make things easy. Dean wasn't good at being vulnerable and shit like that. He had sort of been assuming they would just stop fucking asking him but of course they wouldn't.

They still wanted to know _why_.

Dean mussed his hands through his hair and huffed a breath out, struggling to phrase it.

"I don't know, okay? I just – I just want to make sure he's in there. I wanna see him beaten down and sorta _scared_ , alright? I mean _every_ _damn day_ we sat in that fuckin' courtroom and he was in the corner just frownin' at everyone. Not once did he look like he was afraid of what might happen, not _once_ durin' that night that he had me – ,"

" _Hey_."

Roman's interruption wasn't a warning one, more a knee-jerk response to Dean riling himself up. At some point the copper blonde had started tapping on his shoulder, drumming his fingers in a rhythm against the wound site that had taken its sweet fucking time to heal up. Realizing it absently and almost with a recoil, he stopped the beating and drew another breath in,

" _Fuck_. M' alright."

"Look man," Seth put in, softening his tone a touch, "We get it alright? You wanna see the guy sweat just a little. Makes sense after all the fucked up shit you went through but – I don't know – is it gonna help sitting face to face with that asshole? Being close up to him like that?"

There was a pause as a guard stepped up to their vehicle, timing it with the barrier so that Roman had to stop. In the silence they looked across at their hunched and conflicted teammate, who shrugged back at them,

"Guess we're about to find out."

Seth and Roman waited outside for him – not through choice, they _had_ to, Kevin hadn't agreed to see them. The fact that Kevin had agreed to see _him_ was sort of unsettling enough as it was, even though Dean had asked for the visit.

What the fucking hell did Kevin have to talk to _him_ about?

"You sure you're gonna be alright?" Roman questioned finally, his wide eyes concerned. Seth's snort sounded rough,

"Come on, he'll be fine."

He seemed to have changed his tune pretty heavily but Dean appreciated the booster nonetheless. As the guards patted him down and let him into the building, he turned back towards them and offered out a quick thumbs up. Roman's worried eyes were the last things he saw before the door slammed.

 _Fuck_.

He was officially fucking mad.

Inside the prison was much like the outside, meaning dark, oppressive, airy and austere. It wasn't exactly _new_ to him either. Dean had been in there plenty before, visiting suspects, convicts and informants.

All in the line of duty for a cop.

 _This_ time however, it just felt different, like the balance had shifted or the equilibrium was off. Dean wasn't someone who did _scared_ very often but the prospect of seeing Kevin kind of terrified him a bit. Okay, not a _bit,_ a _lot_ if he was honest but he had made it this far so no way was he giving up.

He had actually called up Sami at some point and asked if he'd wanted to tag along for the ride, but the answer had been an unequivocal _never_. The other man had his wife and his family, he'd put Kevin behind him.

Dean just hoped that he could do the same.

Joining a buzzing little cluster of relatives who were waiting eagerly outside the visiting room, the Shield man braced himself and drew a long breath in. Then a heavy door unlocked and that was it.

They were in.

Despite the prison being _unfit for purpose_ it had several notable penitential mod cons, like bullet proof glass to keep the visitors from the inmates.

Or maybe that should have been the other way around.

Kevin was sat towards the end of the row of jumpsuits, his piggy eyes staring out, soulless and cold. Dean's heart skipped a couple of beats at the sight of them, but Owens remained expressionless, unblinking and calm.

It wasn't exactly a _settling_ welcome but since he'd not expected one, Dean boldly pushed on, taking the hard seat across from his abductor and matching the eerie gaze pound for unflinching pound.

"Kevin."

"Dean."

So far so normal, or decidedly _not_ normal considering their past.

"Thanks for – ," Dean shrugged, "Y' know, lettin' me come talk to you."

Kevin stared back at him, but still didn't talk. Evidently Dean was going to have to do the leg work, but maybe that was better?

He certainly didn't mind.

"Listen, I wanted to – ,"

"No," Kevin grumbled, clenching his fists a little in sudden anger, " _No_."

Dean blinked back at him, more than a little baffled and the confusion carried in his pinched expression,

"Huh?"

"You don't get to talk to us Dean," Kevin spat out at him, all childlike again and actually _flushing_ he was so damn pent-up, his cheeks flaring a furious mix of crimson and beetroot red, "You've been a bad friend Dean, a _very_ bad friend."

The responding sigh was audible,

"Not this shit again," he shifted forward, "Kevin, we are _not_ friends alright?"

"Then why did you – why did you come here to see me?"

The confusion on the other man's face was almost laughable but at the same time it was deeply troubling too. Either Kevin couldn't actually remember what he'd done to him, couldn't remember having _buried him alive_ or else he had some bullshit rose colored glasses that made the attempted murder thing seem fine.

Whatever it was though, Dean wasn't having it and he narrowed his gaze,

"To make damn fuckin' sure you ain't _ever_ gettin' out again. Y' hear that, huh? This is it for you now. For the next ninety years 's just you an' that jumpsuit. Better get used to it."

Kevin glared back.

In an instant he had switched from childlike to murderous and Dean briefly wondered if maybe he _was_ a psych case. At the very least he seemed to have several personalities, the latest one of which was royally pissed. Launching out a fist, Kevin punched the partition glass, making it flex a little but otherwise it didn't budge. Dean assumed it was somehow supposed to scare him but he'd seen it coming and so he didn't so much as flinch.

In the background a guard made to step with a frown towards them, but Dean held a hand up.

 _It's okay man._

Kevin however was decidedly _not_ okay which was highlighted by the fact he was spitting with rage. Not just in the figurative sense either, but _actually_ spitting, the saliva peppering his beard,

"You're just like all the rest."

Dean snorted,

"Yeah, 'm pretty sure 'm not."

"You lied and said things to make me believe you – ,"

"Can you blame me? You had me fuckin' _tied up_. Blood pourin' outta the hole in my shoulder. A gun to my head. You _buried me alive_."

As he spoke, Dean clenched his fists against the table, feeling the temper rise up through his bones.

What about this was Kevin _not_ getting?

Had he really not learnt a damn thing from the trial?

In response to his creeping yet hushed tones of anger, the kidnapper huffed and dropped his head down, almost as if trying to temper his own responses or else transforming into the shame-faced little child again.

"You deserved to die."

It was a whisper, but Dean just caught it nevertheless, the hackles standing up broadly across his shoulders and making him shiver with fury,

" _What_?"

"You're evil," Kevin mumbled, "You have evil inside of you. I had to kill it. You needed to die."

For a second it was such a holy shit answer that Dean did nothing but sit and stare back, _goldfishing_ his disbelieving mouth up and down a bit as he tried to respond to him,

"Oh yeah? Fuck you man."

Not the most eloquent reply in his arsenal, but the first one that came to him and the most passionate one he had. At no point had he expected Kevin to be remorseful – he wasn't an idiot, the guy was too far gone for that – but he had been vaguely hoping for something like embarrassment, or defeat or _resignation_ , hell, he'd have settled for plain old _sad_. For some reason defiance hadn't figured in Dean's game plan and so he simply sat staring murderous daggers through the screen.

"Swearing is bad Dean."

"So is murderin' your parents, but you didn't seem to give a crap about that."

Kevin blinked, like he was hearing it for the first time, then he cocked his head,

"They were mean to me."

"So? _Life_ can be a bitch. That's how it is sometimes. Look at me alright? My childhood was fuckin' _rough_. You think I don't wanna go back an' screw people over? Get even with anyone that ever gave me shit? The difference between us – the difference between you and _normal_ folk – is that you _don't fuckin' do it_. That's just the rule."

"They hurt me."

 _For Christ sake._

They were going in circles.

"You shot them in the _head_ man. One after the other, in front of one another at point blank range. You really don't get it? I know they were assholes, but by doin' what you did to them – and what you did to me and Sami – you've made yourself every fuckin' _inch_ as bad as them."

" _Don't_ say that."

"Why not? It's the truth man," Dean spread his hands wide, "How d' ya think you ended up in here? Actual fact, you know what? You're _worse_ than they are."

Kevin flinched visibly,

"No – no I'm _not_."

"Sure you are," Dean pressed, biting a smirk down, watching as the bigger man started to shake. It wasn't particularly big to be goading him but he wouldn't deny that _fuck_ it felt great. After everything Kevin had forced him to suffer, the chance to turn the tables was too much to ignore, "Why do you think your old man only got seven years and you got ninety?"

"It was the demons – ,"

"Oh sure, _those_ guys again."

For the first time that morning – or possibly since he'd met him – Kevin seemed to get he was the butt of the joke and his eyes flashed with a sudden and unpredictable flare of danger that had once upon a time made Dean's insides freeze up.

This time however, there was nothing.

He wasn't scared of him.

Kevin Owens had no power over Dean Ambrose anymore.

Almost as if sensing it, the stalker shot forwards, suddenly flattening himself up against the glass. The unexpected move made the prisoners on either side of him startle a little and the other visitors backed up.

"I hate you Dean, I _hate_ you – they're everywhere – the demons are everywhere. Don't you see? They're in your _head_."

Kevin was screaming and punching the glass and crying but Dean didn't flinch from it.

Why should he?

He'd won.

As three of the six or so guards in the visiting room lumbered forward with their nightsticks and tried to haul Kevin off, the Shield man stood up abruptly and brushed his jeans off, his unexpected movement making the kidnapper briefly stop.

"W-wait, wait Dean, w-where are you going?"

The copper blonde glanced across at him,

"Back out to the real world,"

"No, d-don't go," Kevin strained against the prison guards, without warning turning childlike again, "Don't want you to go, p-please, d-don't leave me."

Dean shrugged,

"Sorry man, nothin' I can do. You shoulda thought about _this_ shit before you fucked with me. No fun bein' locked up and helpless, is it now? But hey, on the bright side, at least you've not been shot up. So, all things considered, it _could_ be a lot worse."

"Dean – Dean, _no_."

Kevin was sweating, the beads of perspiration mixing with his leaking tear ducts until the entirety of his face was shiny and dangerously red. The whole fucking place was staring over at them, but Dean barely noticed.

He was too busy being done.

His parting shot was one for the annals and delivered with panache in his _give-a-fuck_ style.

"I'll tell the others you send your best to 'em. You remember Seth and Roman, right? My teammates, my _brothers_? They're outside waitin'. Because _that's_ what bein' a fuckin' _best friend's_ all about. Have a nice life Kevin. Try and make the most of it, 'cos – trust me – your sorry ass ain't _ever_ gettin' out."

Then he turned and sauntered from the visiting room, ignoring the big man's wails and letting the door swing firmly shut.

 _Christ_.

He could hear the commotion he had created for several corners but he kept on walking, his head held high. They lasted until he stepped physically from the building and then faded and were replaced instead by warm light. Summer – it seemed – was finally making an appearance and he inhaled it deeply and then blew out a long breath. His eyes slid shut and he tilted his head back, absorbing the warmth and letting the sun chase off the ice.

He didn't really realize that he was very vaguely shaking until his fingers absently tapped up against his side, almost as if alerting him to some impending freak out that he wasn't quite prepared for.

He opened his eyes.

It probably wasn't great to fall apart in the prison parking lot, although fortunately it never quite came down to that. Because the first thing he saw as his spinning vision focussed were two faces staring back at him from several cars across. Their faces pinched in frowns of uncertainty and concern and protectiveness all in one swoop.

"Dean?" Seth called out, stepping towards him, his terrier ears pricked up, "Hey man, you alright?"

Dean snorted back but it wasn't in amusement, more a response to the sheer relief he felt. Strictly speaking _alright_ was a loose term but on balance he guessed things had turned out for the best. After all he had physically faced down his demons and not Kevin's hooey ones but the real _ugly_ kind.

There he was though, battered but unbroken.

Once again he had been through the wringer and survived.

"Yeah," he nodded once he was close enough and realizing that he hadn't given an answer either way, "Yeah, 'm good."

Roman raised a brow at him, seeing straight through it,

" _Mmhmm_ , what happened uce?"

"Big Guy, I'm – ,"

" _Don't_ say fine and don't shut us out Dean. After what that asshole did to you, I'm not buying that. Neither one of us is, you hear?"

Dean blinked back at him, drinking in their gazes.

There would be little to no point in feeding them some lie.

"He yelled a bit, is that what you wanna hear, huh? He talked some more about my demons an' shit. Went on about his god damn parents and crappy childhood. Tiny violin stuff, that same old song. Then he tried to break the partition. He's probably gettin' anal from a nightstick as we speak."

" _Jesus_ ," Seth exhaled, at what Dean assumed was the image but turned out not to be, "He tried to come at you?"

"Yeah, through _reinforced glass._ The guy's an idiot _."_

Roman sucked a breath in,

"You sure you're alright?"

"Not a scratch on me."

"Not what he meant man."

Dean shrugged,

"Yeah, I know. Tell ya' what I _am_ though – fuckin' _hungry_. In fact m' actually dyin' over here. One of you bastards is buyin' me lunch. From a nice place too. One with proper coffee cups."

Seth blew a snort out and rolled his eyes mildly, but the noise was a fond one,

"You got it man."

Just like that the tension ebbed away from them, each man unfurling like a freshly unpacked flag. The joking tones placed them back on even ground again and as usual Dean's off-beat humour lead the way.

Roman hadn't just been saying random words to him when he had said their family didn't work without him there. It didn't work when _any_ of them was absent.

The three Shield boys together.

Through it all.

Thick and thin.

The ease of their company took the weight off Roman's shoulders and struck him with a sudden stab of levity as well.

"So," he rumbled, "Fancy some hot wings?"

The answer was resounding,

"You _kiddin'_ me? Fuck no."

* * *

 **Okay, so, this one is now all** _ **done**_ **done!**

 **Have an idea for story three but not even close to being started yet and I've got a whole mess of other things to get to first (all Dean based though, so not all bad!)**

 **Until then however, I've written a few one-shots based on this universe (centered around the boys, okay, mainly focusing Dean but, hey, they're all there) based on suggestions reviewers have made to me about little moments or things they would like to see/see more of. To keep the flow, I'll start posting them next Monday. In the meantime if there is a burning scenario from this AU you want to see that would fit a one-shot (or a missing scene or something funny/fluffy) then let me know and I'll see what I can do. It's going to be called The Shield Unscripted, so I hope you'll check it out.**

 **But in the meantime, TTFN...**


	18. Sequel Update

**Hey all,**

 **The boys are back, so for anyone who's interested in the new full length story in this series, feel free to check out The Shield Blindsided for the beginning of their latest case.**


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